Artistic Vision
by gaaraisthebest170
Summary: It's the last semester of high school with college quickly around the corner. How will Kenny and Butters turn their new found friendship into something more before it's too late? And where will they go from there? Features Butters as a painter and Kenny in an upcoming band w/ the Goth Kids. RATED M FOR A REASON! Dark themes as well as very sexual themes. ;) Bunny, Style, and more.
1. Don't You Dare Forget The Sun

Greetings everyone! This is my first South Park FanFic, so if any of my character are noticeably OC, please please please let me know! Otherwise I'll look back on it and be terribly embarrassed! Also, if anything doesn't make sense (sentence structure or spelling issues or transition, etc.) I would also greatly appreciate feedback for that as well. Writing for South Park characters seems like a fun little challenge, and since Kenny is very relatable for me, I'll start it off in his perspective. This will be a Bunny, Style, and possibly Candy FanFic (I'm not brave enough to attempt Creek yet xD Craig's character is a little muddy for me right now, but perhaps in the future). Please enjoy~

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Deliciously noisy chords from his MP3 player flooded into Kenny's eardrums as he sat back, watching the rising sun from his little perch nestled on the roof of his run-down house. Reclining slightly, a small little smile shyly painted itself on his face as 'Don't You Dare Forget The Sun' began. He relished moments as serene as these, where one could effectively lose themselves for a little while and forget any previous, irrelevant memory. From down below he could hear the distinct noises of a round of morning beer pong with the neighborhood homeless taking place inside his family's 'living room'. With a small, half-hearted sigh Kenny rolled a stray pebble underneath his sneaker in contemplation. He would graduate in several months, now that the second semester had begun. What the hell was he supposed to do with himself after that? Community college? Odd jobs? Thinking on it, he should probably start prowling around for jobs soon. In fact, why not start today? It was a new day, a fresh start. Time to take the initiative.

The sun traced it's lazy routine a little further until Kenny judged it to be nearly time for him to start getting ready for the day. He slid off the roof and easily swung into his window, watching his younger sister fumble about, searching for a spare sock.

"Top of the dresser." He assisted, giving her a nod in greeting. She looked up at him in tired appreciation.

"Thanks." After a pause, she supplied, "Kevin didn't show up last night. Probably is passed out somewhere drunk, so you don't have'ta worry about him today."

"Oh good. My morning's actually started out being quite uplifting. I feel pretty great, in fact." Kenny snatched up his backpack and his good black T-shirt with his one-and-only pair of skinny jeans.

Karen raised her eyebrows. "Oh? Excited about graduating?"

"I wouldn't really say that… Actually, I don't really know why I'm in a good mood. I think… maybe I've finally gotten sick of hating my life. Maybe I'm happy because I'm ready to be." Kenny looked around the piles of miscellaneous clothing articles and other lost objects for a suitable pair of underwear for today before settling with his pair of red and blue plaid boxers.

"Wow. That sounds… uncharacteristically inspirational for you. You might've just made my day… Or year." She snickered, sharing a humorous, knowing look with him. Yes, their lives were entirely and utterly unfair, but they were in this together. Karen trusted Kenny, and Kenny trusted Karen. It was them against the world, and that was okay.

Kenny stripped off his shirt and pants and, after waiting for Karen to look away, his boxers, before pulling on his slightly cleaner choice of attire. He slipped into the bathroom quickly to brush his teeth and the like before returning to his and his sibling's room to locate his shoes. "So, when are you guys performing again?" Karen inquired, curiosity laced throughout her tone.

Kenny's biggest achievement was his band, and he was very proud of it. At some point during sophomore year, the Goth Kids approached him, bashfully requesting that he be their drummer for their band called Field of Ravens. After a lot of arguing and cussing, Kenny eventually agreed and, despite the music being a little too depressing for his taste, found that he really enjoyed the camaraderie that came along with it. It was like having a second, comically bitter and crass family to help you forget (or amplify) your problems."We've got a gig a week from now out at Stark's Pond for the Spring Festival kick-off, so we're meeting at Firkle's after school today."

"Oh! That sounds pretty cool. I should bring Ruby with me for that then." Karen grinned, stuffing away the last of her books. Kenny took her hand and helped her with the short leap out the window, before following after her. First rule of the McCormick residence: Don't interrupt beer pong for absolutely ANY reason.

With the new semester came a new string of classes for Kenny. He drew lines, patterns around the campus with nothing but his own two feet, frowning while losing his way. He eventually was found by a particular student, who watched Kenny with amusement from a distance. This particular student's mouth was trying to tuck away his sad smile of neglect while the sun's young rays combed tenderly through his askew hair. Perhaps this fiery glow engulfing him was the reason why Kenny's eyes were drawn to Butters. Regardless, a shot or pure panic ran throughout his bloodstream and ended up causing the poor blonde to slam head-on into a pillar before crumpling to the ground, as if he had become the ashes of a glorious phoenix.

With widening eyes, Kenny dashed over to Butters, closing the distance between them. Rubbing his reddening forehead, Butters looked up at the lanky teen who had come to check on his well-being in honest embarrassment. A stain of pink fluttered over his cheeks.

"Hot damn, Butters! Are you alright, man?" Kenny asked, slowly recovering from the initial shock of watching Butters K.O.

"Y-Yeah, I-I'll be okay, Kenny, Just wasn't payin' attention's all." Butters responded, causing a little ripple of relief for Kenny. He was touched by the concern, truly, but it wasn't something he was accustomed to responding well to and was quite out of his comfort zone. However, he gratefully accepted Kenny's open hand and stood.

Several moments passed before both Kenny and Butters parted hands, and a static, unexplainable sensation lingered long after. Butters cleared his throat. "S-So Kenny, you seemed a little lost just now. Are you looking for your classes too?"

"Yeah." Kenny blinked. "I have German 2 first period. Any idea where that class is?"

Straightening a little, Butters responded, "Y-Yeah! It's in the library right across from my first period class, French 2. I can show you where it is i-if you'd like."

"That'd be great!" Kenny sighed in relief. "I was seriously getting worried if I'd ever find it. What other classes do you have?"

"Oh, umm, after French 2 I have AP Physics, AP Art, Independant Living, AP Lit, AP Bio, and… Low Impact." Butters quieted in embarrassment as they began to walk, his previously pink cheeks blossoming into full-on red by now. Yoga wasn't very manly, after all.

"Oh SHIT did I get lucky!" Kenny proclaimed, frightening Butters this time instead of him. "I was _terrified_ I'd be the only guy in Low Impact class! It was the only PE class that wasn't entirely full and I still needed a semester left of PE credit to complete, so…" Kenny trailed off unexpectedly. "Sounds like we also have Art together too. Good. I could get used to seeing some more friendly faces."

Butters smiled to himself. "I can relate."

The pair was soon overcome by a comfortable morning silence as Butters led them to their classes, before a thought struck through Kenny's mind. "Hey… Did you hear about the Spring Fling kick-off next weekend? My band's performing at 2 over by Stark's Pond. We're putting up fliers and stuff, but… You should definitely show up. There'll be food and stuff too, so you don't have to eat beforehand."

A strange feeling seeped throughout Butters' body, one that he couldn't quite place. He gave Kenny a jubilant grin and replied, "Knowing my parents, they'll probably insist I bring a sack lunch just in case. You know how serious they get about the little things!" He rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Either way, I'll definitely be there! I don't think I've ever heard you perform before."

"What? Seriously?! Well, now you HAVE to come! I'd simply sweep you off your feet!" Kenny laughed and messed up his hair in an overly-dramatic fashion, which effectively got Butters to let out a strand of oddly endearing giggles. Kenny found that he really enjoyed Butters' giggling, which struck him as very bizarre. Dismissing this, He turned to find that Butters had indeed found their classes, and as he spun back to say something more, he saw Butters giving him a small little wave accompanied with a smile before slipping into his own classroom. After a brief warm feeling which quickly faded, Kenny felt very much alone.

By the time third period rolled around, Butters was feeling anxious to see Kenny again. He had walked the blonde to his next class after first period, but Kyle and Cartman had been with them, making Butters believe he would be better at decor than friendships. But Butters didn't want just a friendship with Kenny. Kenny was very, no, _exceedingly_ special to him, and in what way he wasn't quite sure of yet. Whatever it was had a firm grip on Butters, and felt consuming, suffocating. This wasn't a new development either. Whenever Kenny was within his sight, he'd find himself light-headed and almost faint, as if he were dehydrated or starving. The worst part of this terrible ailment was, as far as Butters could see, that he couldn't find a cure. Being around Kenny made him feel awfully dizzy, but being away from Kenny made him ache an ache that can only be compared to the slow extraction of one's organs, or the constant gnawing at your very soul. No distraction was potent enough, no hobby more fulfilling than seeing the blonde's face for a single second. It was a disease, a plague, and an absolute taboo.

Now, if there was one thing Butters knew better than anything, it was how to paint. From tempura to oil, he knew how to breathe life into each medium. But his special poison was the acrylic. Perhaps Butters' passion for acrylic was because of how forgiving it was. Oil paints were easily smudged due to the long time it took to dry and often held the terrible odor of decaying fish. Tempura was fickle and would curl up easily. Watercolor, when done correctly, would become a quick and gorgeous piece, but mistakes were more often than not cropping up when you least expected it. But acrylic! Never, never acrylic! If you messed up, simply wait several minutes for it to dry and paint over it. The secret to acrylic paint was layers and even more layers. And within those layers, little fragments of the painter's heart and ambition hid snugly and contently within the paint. Surely, there is no paint more beautiful, more complete paint than acrylic.

By now you can probably understand if you haven't witnessed this beautiful process being done before, how simply graceful it is to see a painter begin and continue shaping a true acrylic painting on canvas. This is the sight that greeted Kenny when he walked into the AP Art morning. Vivid colors and ingenious creations were hung about the classroom, and in the very center of it all was Butters Stotch, paintbrush in tow.

"Hey Butters. Mind if I sit here?" Kenny asked the blonde, who immediately sat straight up in surprise. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

"N-No! It's alright! And sure, it'd be nice to have the company." Butters looked up at him and accidentally made eye contact with Kenny, causing him to redden and look back down at his painting.

"What's your painting going to be of?" Kenny asked, pulling out a set of heavy black ink pens.

"W-Well… This is a bit of an experiment, see. I'm doing a surrealist self-portrait, but it's proving to be a lot more difficult than I thought it'd be. This here is the room," Butters traced the lines he had established in paint. :But in order for there to have that element of surrealism, this wall's paint job will make it seem like the room it longer than it actually is. In order to make it clear that this is in fact a smaller room than it first appears, there'll be a painting hung up on this same wall. I'll also paint myself leaning up against the wall. Does that make any sense?"

Kenny thought on it, and eventually did begin to see what Butters was trying to pull off. "Yeah, kind of. That's certainly ambitious of you!"

Butters chuckled. "Thanks. So, what are you working on?"

Kenny pulled out sheets of white paper and began boxing out areas. "I'm making a comic strip, actually. It's about this man who commits suicide, but wakes up hearing this voice claiming to be a higher power. The voice grants him temporary immortality until he's able to kill a group of particularly evil people, and after that he'll be able to have a second shot at his life. But along the way, he meets this other man whom he befriends and later figures out has terminal cancer… And that's all I have so far."

Humming contently Butters replied, "That sounds so interesting, Ken! I can't wait for the finished product! Sounds kinda heavy though. But it's good for you to read serious things now and then. Gives you a good perspective and such."

Kenny smirks at this and murmurs in agreement before a quiet hush envelopes the two. It was times like these Kenny would dare say he enjoyed the most. A respectful, calming quiet that to some could come off as a little awkward, but to Butters and Kenny the silence was nearly binding.

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So, that was the first installment of Artistic Vision! I sincerely hope you enjoyed it thus far. Things will most certainly heat up ;) After all, yoga is next~ If this seems a little OC, it may be because most of the things written about so far have a lot to do with me personally. The painting described here was actually a piece I did last month, and the comic is loosely based on my favorite point-and-click video game, The Cat Lady. However, the band thing is new to me, so I'm looking forward to writing about it!

Let me know if there's anything you don't like/want to happen, or, God forbid, actually like xD I was afraid my way of writing would bore most people out there.


	2. Crash

NOTE: I mentioned last chapter that Kenny was the drummer of Field of Ravens, but I've decided to make him the bass player instead. Firkle's the electric keyboard player, Michael's the electric guitar player, Pete's the new drummer, and Henrietta's their female vocals (she also plays the bass guitar, so it's easy for her and Kenny to switch roles accordingly. Since I wanted Kenny to be part-time vocals, I wanted an easier switch here so that's why there was a change. I apologize for that!). As for the songs themselves, this is how it'll go: None of these songs are original. It'll seem like these songs were made by the band, but I'll give the real credit to the true artists at the end of each chapter. I personally own nothing- not south Park, and not any of these songs.

By the time seventh period rolled around, Kenny was already growing exceedingly tired of school. He had been chewed out by his English teacher for refusing to participate in the class discussion over The Crucible. Frankly, his patience for academics was stretched amazingly thin, and he was surprised that his rather positive attitude was dimly returning as he entered the gymnasium. He tore open the heavy door to the men's locker room and signed in to receive his new locker combination. As he weaved his way through the maze of stripping classmates, he saw two familiar faces grin over at him in recognition.

"Hey Kenny! Didn't think you were taking a gym class. What's new, man?" Kyle greeted him, running a hand through his rather unruly red hair.

"Not much. Oh, I've got something for you two." Kenny replied, rifling through his backpack and peeling out two band fliers before tossing them to Stan and Kyle. "Think you can show up?"

"Fuck yeah! For an emo band, you guys are pretty good. Are you taking requests?" Stan asked, chuckling when Kenny gave him a disgruntled look at the word 'emo'.

"I suppose. We really need to make a kick-ass impression this time; almost everyone shows up to these festival things, and we could really use the publicity. Plus, Henrietta's insisting we go all-out in order to "spread our misery to the conformists"." Kenny rolled his eyes playfully as Kyle and Stan began snickering.

"Your friends are so weird, man. I have no idea how you put up with those crazy assholes." Stan ripped off his shirts and jeans to fish around in his haphazardly arranged locker for his gym clothes. Kenny looked away defiantly and noticed Kyle eyeing their mostly-naked friend as if he were a piece of meat. The blonde could hardly blame him; Stan was well-built. Anyone would be envious!

"They're not too bad once you get past the general negative hatred. After about a month, they start growing on you." Kenny smirked contently, the comment raising up some fond memories of the close little group. He saw Henrietta's pout and Firkle's demeaning glare that oh-so-often bore into him from several feet below. He heard Michael's drawling way of saying "No _way_", and could smell the cloud of smoke from Pete's lucky brand of cigarettes which he only lit right before a particularly intense performance. After a while, Karen was allowed to hang around with them in Firkle's basement while they practiced. The group had become quite fond of her, and would often ask her opinion on a new song or whether a different pitch was needed. She was, in a sense, the band's one-and-only loyal groupie, and Kenny couldn't have been more content with it this way.

Kyle's momentary paralysis seemed over as he managed to tear his eyes away from naked Stan and begin the process of changing clothes as well. Kenny grabbed the hem of his own shirt and began pulling it over his head. Once it was successfully off, he could've sworn he felt a pair of eyes burn into his body from behind. Rather cynically curious, Kenny looked over his shoulder to meet a pair of wide blue eyes full-on.

"Ahh!" Utterly startled, Butters jumped and nearly crashed into his open locker. A slightly devilish smirk danced its way on to Kenny's face, and he strolled over to the blonde, who seemed positively rooted to the floor in sheer embarrassment. With a burst of adrenaline and a large quantity of backbone, Kenny smashed his open palm against the locker next to Butters', trapping him. Butters' eyes widened as a blush teased its way across his face. Before he could stop himself, his eyes flitted over Kenny's exposed chest, analyzing everything they took in. "W-What're you doin' Ken?"

"I'm merely giving you a better view," Kenny said simply, leaning in closer to Butters' face until a mere inch remained between their mouths. "What does it look like I'm doing?"

Butters stammered as Kenny leaned in a little further, his coy smirk widening. Before he could even blink, Kenny had whipped swiftly away. Without so much as looking back at Butters, Kenny tossed a "See you in a bit" over his shoulder and returned to Stan and Kyle, who were openly staring in amazement at him.

"What the FUCK Kenny?!" Stan exclaimed. "You shouldn't mess around with Butters too much, man. He doesn't know you're joking when you do things like that."

"Who says I'm joking? For all you know, I have an enormous 'teen girl crush' on him!" Kenny laughed, sneaking a small glance over at Butters to make sure he hadn't heard that. He apparently hadn't.

"You? Yeah, right! That'd never happen, dude. You're probably the straightest guy I know." Stan chuckled, adjusting his sneakers.

"Am I? That almost sounds like a challenge," Kenny smirked shamelessly. Kyle remained noticeably quiet and pretended like he was looking for something in his locker. "You're forgetting that I've always had a thing for playing the princess!"

"Damn it! I never know how to respond to your weird suggestive jokes, man!" Stan threw his hands up in the air, looking over to Kyle with a 'can you believe this?' expression on his face. Kyle, however, wasn't looking back. Stan decided to end the conversation. "A-Anyway, Kyle and I better get going to Strength & Conditioning before we're late. See you in a bit, Ken."

"Later." Kenny pulled on his last sneaker and started out of the locker room.

Now, Kenny had been one of those guys who really liked a nice pair of yoga pants. He thoroughly enjoyed watching women bend this way and that until they looked like human pretzels. In fact, he had 'borrowed' several of Sharon Marsh's yoga DVDs for masturbation purposes before.

This was why he simply couldn't understand why he kept on looking over at Butters instead of all the fine ladies who were, indeed, bending over. It was rather endearing how the blonde struggled to follow along- after all, men aren't nearly as flexible as women. But by male standards, Butters held his own pretty well.

Kenny had all but given up himself. Even the basic Child's Pose was a struggle for him, which was only mildly embarrassing. Kenny probably wouldn't have been embarrassed at all if Butters would stop looking over at him and giggling. It WAS, admittedly, rather cute of Butters, but he was _laughing_ at him! Kenny stuck out his tongue at the blonde defiantly, but this only caused more laughter. He sniffed and looked away.

After class, Kenny and Butters walked side-by-side back to the locker room, playfully bantering over how "ladylike" they had become in merely thirty minutes.

"I personally think your Downward Facing Dog might have easily been the most elegant one out of us all!" Kenny snorted, watching Butters puff up in indignation.

"W-Well, your palates blew me out of the park! I could never palate as good as you!" Butters threw back good-naturedly.

"Palates are way more manly! Of course I blew you out of the park!" Kenny snickered, lightly clapping Butters' shoulder.

"Psh!" Butters wrinkled his nose at Kenny in mild irritation before they entered the men's locker room.

"So, ah, Butters. Are you busy after school today?" Kenny inquired, surprised by how nervous he had been to ask.

"W-Well, I have a strict 5:00 curfew, but until then I'm free. Why?" Butters asked.

"I… I have band practice today at Firkle's. If you want, you can tag along. Cause, you know, you haven't heard us yet and stuff. My sister Karen's probably going to be there today too, so you won't be the only one chilling on the couch. Today we need to figure out which songs we're going to do, and it'd be nice to get a little extra feedback." Kenny explained, carefully studying Butters' face.

He glowed. "That sounds great! But if my parents ask… I was at your place, okay?"

Kenny laughed. "Sure thing."

Butters put his keys in the ignition, and the car sprung alive. Since he had a car on him today, he offered to be Kenny's driver to Firkle's place. Kenny pointed him in the right direction and, before he knew it, they had arrived.

Kenny stepped out of the car and patiently waited for Butters to follow. Together they walked up to the modest little house and Kenny opened the door without even knocking, causing Butters to feel a little intrusive.

"FIRKLE! I'm here!" Kenny shouted down the stairs, beckoning Butters to come down after him. Candles flickered from both sides of the staircase, giving it a strange medieval feel. Butters felt an ominous chill ignite his skin and snake along his spine, but a slice of excitement ran with it. He wasn't really sure what to expect, and his curiosity grew with every step descending into the darkness.

Finally, the pair reached the lounge room veiled in crimson lighting. Ancient looking gothic paintings and old black-and-white photos hung around the room like lethargic spirits, and candles stood up tall in each corner of the room, circled with puddles of escaped wax. In the middle of the dark room was a blood-red couch and acoustics were littered around it like a spoiled child's discarded dolls. A small black nightstand stood in the corner next to the couch where a severely overused ashtray rested. On the couch was the small dark-haired resident and Pete, who was chewing the end of a cigarette peacefully.

"Oh hey man. You brought Butters with you? What the hell?" Pete asked, looking Butters up and down. "One blonde is bad enough."

"Nah, don't say that, man. Butters is here because I _asked _him. He could tell us what he thinks, you know, whether he feels depression rattling his core or not." Kenny met Butters eyes discreetly and winked.

Pete and Firkle seemed satisfied by this. "Yeah, okay. That works. Do you know why Henrietta's so late? Michael I understand, but Henri? She's, like, anal when it comes to time. God, I don't understand girls."

"No idea. But we might as well get set up in advance. Karen's coming in a bit too, I think." Kenny paused. "We should order a pizza or something."

Firkle mumbled in agreement and grabbed his cellphone. "Hey, blondie." He addressed Butters. "Pepperoni okay?"

"Y-Yeah!" Butters squeaked, more than just a little nervous. Kenny rubbed his shoulder reassuringly and gave him a little smile, which was returned after a moment. After all, it was difficult to find comfort in a satanic-looking cement basement.

Kenny and Pete began fishing around for their instruments and amps while Firkle placed an order for delivery and beckoned Butters to sit beside him. Merely seconds after Firkle hung up, the noise of the upstairs door swinging open followed by the laughter of two girls and the grumbling of another guy. After pairs of feet scampered down the rickety stairs, the faces of Karen, Henrietta, and Michael became visible, and suddenly the drafty basement didn't feel quite so uncomfortably enormous anymore.

"Sorry we're a bit late, Henrietta insisted we stopped for coffee first." Michael explained with a tired sigh. "Oh, hey Butters. What're you doing here?"

"He's our guinea pig. If we successfully inflict him with despair and pain, then we're on the right path for the Spring Festival." Firkle explained before Butters could interject, causing Kenny to look at the little dark-haired boy in irritation.

"Be nice."

"Humph."

Henrietta rolled her eyes and plugged in the bass. "So losers, what songs should we do for this thing? We should, like, make a list or something."

Karen clicked a gel pen and pulled out her school notebook. "I'm on it!"

"Stan texted me asking if we could do 'Sarcasm', so we should probably include it somewhere. It is pretty much our signature song, after all." Kenny supplied. "Well, that and 'I'm Not A Vampire', naturally."

"You know, for a brain dead jock, he has good taste in music." Henrietta chortled while Karen scratched down the names of the songs. "Plus, you only want to do those songs because you're the vocals for them. Spoiled brat."

Kenny scoffed. "Well, what about our in-progress song, then? Would that make you feel better?"

"'Crash'? Maybe. I think we should run through that first, actually." Henrietta stated.

"Yeah, okay." Michael agreed as Firkle stood to get behind his keyboard.

Suddenly, the sounds of Michael's electric guitar pierced the room, swiftly followed by the electric bass, the drums, and eventually the electric keyboard. Henrietta's sultry voice soon followed.

"_Don't know where I'm going_

_Everybody's running, everybody's running_

_Come back after all is broken_

_Everything is burning, no one is returning…_

_Save me from this wicked person I've become_

_As the world comes crashing…"_

To say Butters had never heard anything like this before would be a vast understatement, and truthfully, he wasn't sure what he thought of it at first. But the more he heard, the more he related with and grew to actually… enjoy. About fifteen minutes later, the pizza had arrived and they all sat around to eat.

"So Butters," Pete began, "What do you think so far?"

"You're all really great! Oh gosh, you're going to be terrific next week!" Butters exclaimed, earning a satisfied grin from both Kenny and Karen.

"Wha-? Really?" Michael asked in surprise. "I didn't think a normal loser would actually say we were any good. Huh."

"Do you have any despair, though? Like, do you now hate the entire system that is conformity?" Henrietta pressed, flicking off some ash at the end of her cigarette.

Kenny caught Butters' gaze and gave him a 'lie-and-it'll-be-easier' look. Butters coughed. "A-Absolutely! I could, golly, I could burn down a H-Hot Topic again!"

The four goths smirked in satisfaction. "Perfect."

"So Kenny." Henrietta addressed. "I hope you're not going to wear your poser-mainstream clothes next week. Cause if you do, I'm cutting off your left testicle and feeding it to my mom. I do your attire, hair, and makeup." Kenny glowered. "Yes, _makeup_. It's necessary for our image. We've been over this."

"How much are you paying me?" Kenny's glare was unmoving.

"Thirty. No more, no less. Understood?"

"Fine."

Butters smiled. "M-Makeup, huh? Gee, you'll look so pretty Kenny! I guess I'm the more masculine one, after all!"

Kenny slapped his hand to his own forehead and groaned. "Butters, they're not dressing me up nicely. Kind of the opposite, in fact. I'll probably look like a freaky suicidal clown by the time Henrietta's done with me."

"Hey, you're going to look _perfect. _Don't be all, "Ooh, I'm Kenny Mc-fucking-Cormick and I'm better than stage makeup."" Henrietta turned to Butters. "He won't just look pretty, blondie. He'll look panty-dropping fuckable. You can quote me on that later." Butters blinked in surprise and noticed, for perhaps the first time ever, Kenny's face transform into a bright cherry red. He hid behind a slice of pizza after noticing Butters watching him.

"Oh, Kenny!" Butters exclaimed suddenly. "I need to get going! It's almost five already!"

Unfortunately, Butters had yet to hear Kenny's voice, and that was secretly what he had been looking forward to the entire afternoon. He snatched his coat and waved everyone a goodbye.

"Bye Butters!" Kenny called after him, that familiar wave of loneliness coming over him. He listened as Butters pattered upstairs and went out the door hastily.

"So Kenny." Henrietta began, swiping up another pizza slice. "What the hell was THAT all about?"

Confused, Kenny asked, "What do you mean?"

"Oh please. We're really doing this?" She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You've _never_ brought anyone aside from Karen to practice before, and I know you're, like, really chummy or whatever with those three losers. Why bring Butters and not your butt-buddies?"

"I… I don't know. He's nice. And he... doesn't really get out much, so I felt like he should get included more." Kenny answered slowly, secretly wondering this for himself.

"Uh-huh. Well, he seemed really happy to be here, if you know what I mean." Henrietta responded, taking a thoughtful bite out of her pizza.

"... Fuck off."

* * *

Songs mentioned: "Sarcasm" by Get Scared, "I'm Not A Vampire" by Falling in Reverse, and "Crash" by Fit For Rivals. In the last chapter, the song Kenny was listening to on the roof was "Don't You Dare Forget The Sun" by Get Scared. If you have any comments, feedback, song recommendations, or whatever else, don't be afraid to let me know! Thanks for reading so far.


	3. No Way In Hell

Greetings everyone~ Chapter Three is up! Things start getting hotter ;) The title is a Fit For Rival's song that seemed appropriate for the theme~ Enjoy.

* * *

Several days had passed and Kenny had still prolonged his search for a decent job. Every now and then he mulled over it, and each time he would store the ambition away, with a promise to himself that he would finally do it after the Spring Festival.

He looked over at Butters, who smoothly pulled into Firkle's parking lot and killed the engine. "You know we're not practicing today, right? Odds are, we'll end up playing Scrabble or something. You don't have to go if you don't want to."

Butters soft expression remained unchanged. "I-I know. I guess I j-just like hanging out with you guys. It's kinda fun, actually!"

"Well, alright. If you're sure." Kenny responded, cracking open the door and hopping out of Butters' car. The clean, crisp breeze of this sunny day swept through his hair and blew in his eyes as he turned to face his younger friend's home. Within moments, Butters emerged from the car as well and followed suit after locking the vehicle.

After entering the house- again, without a single polite knock- Kenny led them down the stairs and into the cement den. This time, everyone was present and waiting for the two blondes to arrive. In the middle of the room, where the band equipment usually was, lay several mismatched rectangular pillows; one was a crimson body pillow, one was striped black and purple, one was a bright lime green, one was checkered, and the rest were merely black. All of these pillows were circled around a Monopoly board, which the Goths (as well as Karen) were hunched over and using leisurely. After thumbing through the fake money, Michael looked up at Kenny and Butters and offered up a polite greeting.

"Oh hey. We were just wrapping up. What took you guys so long?" Pete asked, eyeing the two questioningly.

"W-We had to pick up some supplies in the Art room." Butters supplied, sitting down beside Firkle, who had his stomach pressed firmly against the crimson body pillow. Kenny immediately sat down with him, looking over at Henrietta as she let out a frustrated groan. She had landed on one of Karen's larger plots of land and had lost the remainder of her cash.

"Kenny, your sister is too good at this game. Living in the ghetto has taught you well." She muttered, crushing the end of her cigarette in irritation. "Good game."

"Well, what should we do now?" Karen inquired, watching as Firkle got up to light a stick of incense.

"It's been a while since we've played Magic: The Gathering. Plus, we could teach Butters how to play. We have a spare deck floating around, right?" Pete turned to address Firkle who nodded solemnly and turned to retrieve seven decks from his desk. Butters was handed a relatively large deck box, containing cards with vivid images of dragons, angels, and many other mythical beings. He sifted through the deck and noticed many cards called 'Islands' and 'Plains'. As they shuffled their cards in the 'proper' way (Kenny had to show him how to separate 'Land' cards from everything else and how to incorporate them back into the deck in order for the Land to be equally dispersed) Butters noticed that each person's deck consisted of two colors; his was Blue and White, Kenny's was Red and Green, Karen's was White and Green, Pete's was unsurprisingly Red and Black, Firkle's was Blue and Black, Henrietta's was White and Black, and Michael's was Black and Green. It was a surprisingly keen observation on Butters' part, and he felt proud for noticing this trend.

As the game began, Kenny explained patiently how the complex rules of MTG worked- how Deathtouch cards had the advantage, how Flying creatures held special privileges, when Instants can be used as opposed to Sorceries or Enchantments, etcetera. After Pete managed to take in a shocking victory after wiping the Battlefield, Butters had realised that he was hooked. The artwork and craftiness this game presented drew him in like a moth to a flame, and by the end of the second game, he had been able to take in his very first win after creating an impenetrable wall of Angels and a loose alliance with Michael and Kenny.

"Damn Butters, you learn fast!" Karen exclaimed, swiping up some loose bottle caps that had served as Token creatures before storing them in the compartment underneath her deck holder.

"I guess it IS accurate to say that the best defense is a strong offense." Henrietta concluded, ripping off her score sheet and discarding it. "Makes it difficult to find an opening, alright."

"Hey Firkle, do you have any coffee in the pot still?" Kenny asked, eyeing the black-haired boy's coffee maker.

"Yeah. It's cold though." Firkle replied.

"Cold's fine. I'm not picky." He got up to pour himself a cup. "So," he made his way back to the little cluster of pillows, "What should we do next?"

"We could watch 'Nine Dead' again." Firkle suggested.

"Are you forgetting we watched that last week? You can only watch a lawyer with a stick up her ass wail on a serial killer so many times before it starts getting old." Henrietta dismissed.

"Well, then, do you have something better in mind?" He sniffed.

"We could, like, you know… We could play Truth or Dare. I mean, it's mainstream, but it'd be pretty entertaining watching you all make fools of yourselves." Henrietta snorted, lighting a new cigarette.

"That'd be fun! I vote yes for this!" Karen exclaimed, hugging the black and purple pillow to her chest in excitement.

"What? Why would we do something like THAT?" Firkle asked, scoffing and shaking his head.

"Actually… I think it'd be a nice change of pace from card and board games." Pete added rather shyly, looking away in embarrassment as Karen offered him her sunny grin.

Firkle's eyes widened in surprise. He turned to Michael. "What do you think?"

"I don't really give a shit either way." Michael sighed, leaning back on his hands.

"God, I can't believe this! Kenny?!" Firkle looked to the blonde desperately. "What say you?"

"Oh no, don't you dare include me in this. I'm impartial!" Kenny responded, taking in a small swig of cold coffee.

"What about you, Butters?" Firkle moaned, already knowing his position.

"Truth or Dare sounds great! Count me in!" Butters trilled, swaying back and forth in anticipation. Kenny noticed that he had brushed against his shoulder in the process.

"Not cool. You guys suck." Firkle grumbled, falling onto his body pillow irritably.

"Fine. You don't have to play if it causes you such deep agony, then." Pete stated dryly.

"Fine."

"Pete!" Karen exclaimed, causing the goth to jump. "Truth or dare?"

"D-Dare."

"I dare you to take this sparkly pink nail polish, paint your nails, and show up to school with them like that tomorrow." Karen smirked, watching his expression morph horrifically.

"What? N-No! No way!" He stammered, voice raising a few octaves.

"You have to. It's the law of the game." Henrietta stated matter-of-factly, giving Karen a satisfied grin. She pulled out a small bottle of nail polish, as if she had been planning on a game of Truth or Dare with goth kids all along. Maybe she had been…

With a shuddering gasp, Pete began polishing his nails, a disgusted expression staining his face. After he was done, he shot Karen a vengeful death glare.

Since the game prohibited him from calling on Karen right away, he chose Michael, who also picked dare. "Wear your underwear over your jeans until this stupid game is done."

"God, really? Sick!" Michael moaned, retreating to the bathroom. When he returned, a pair of black underwear with little blue broken hearts branded his jeans, making him appear absolutely ridiculous. Pete snickered and fanned his wet fingertips in mock approval.

"Nice panties." Henrietta chuckled, earning a reproachful glance from the tall teen.

"Butters. Truth or dare?" Michael asked mournfully.

"Umm…" Not wanting to break the trend quite yet, but being slightly nervous, he responded, "... Dare." Kenny had to admit, he was a little surprised.

"For the rest of the game….. Wear only your underwear." Michael chuckled softly.

Henrietta rolled her eyes. "Really? You're just, like, taking your anger over your awful choice of panties out on him. Calm down."

"God! Stop calling them panties! These are called _boxer-briefs._" Michael clarified angrily as Buttersthumbed his top button nervously.

"Oh, you're right. My bad. I forgot that I had a pair just like that. Except that I called it a 'thong'." Henrietta winked at Karen, as the younger girl burst into a fit of giggles.

"Ugh, just strip already, Butters." Pete dismissed, before Michael could retort. He gazed down at his bare toes in contemplation. "Am I supposed to do the toe nails too?"

"... Yes." Karen lied, masking her amusement. He then proceeded to paint his toes without a second thought.

Meanwhile, Butters was having an internal struggle with taking off his top. He looked over to Kenny helplessly, who offered a small, reassuring smile. "It'll be fine. It's only the goths, Karen, and I. We're not important enough for you to worry about."

_Yeah, right. Easy for you to say. _Butters gulped and choked down his hesitation. He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, to reveal his naked, slender chest. A few excited snickers were audible from the girls, but Kenny sat in stunned silence, eyes transfixed on the stripping blonde before him. He was even more perfect than he imagined him to be. Not that he imagined Butters naked often, but he'd be willing to admit that he had thought of it before more than once. In passing. And it wasn't a big deal.

Butters was standing in addition to facing Kenny full-on, so when he started fumbling with the button to his jeans, Kenny started getting nervous. He was face-to-crotch with Butters, after all. Maybe he should move back a little.

He didn't. The button came undone, breaking through the deafening silence that encased the basement. A sharp unzipping sound followed, excruciatingly slow. Kenny could barely take it. His breathing had shortened considerably, and he was beginning to notice the bead of sweat forming at the side of his face. Now that he thought about it, he was almost entirely certain that his face was quite red by now. A quick survey around the room showed that, surprisingly, not even the girls were all that embarrassed. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

Butters was a silent wreck. He wasn't ready to reveal this much of himself to Kenny, or anyone else for that matter! But a dare was a dare. He knew exactly what he was signing up for, and at the time he didn't really care. But now… the way Kenny was staring at him! Why on earth was he _staring _like that? It was humiliating! Not only that, but Kenny's face was all red and he looked… sleepy, or something. Butters recalled Cartman's cat once looking like Kenny did now. It was a nameless expression that he never had any way of describing, and it caused him quite an amount of discomfort. And yet… it wasn't entirely unbearable. This was solely why he was able to pull down his pants and complete the dare.

It was hard for Kenny to explain just how Butters appeared to him, since he had never seen anything quite like it before. He had firm, yet undefined and slender thighs, which suited the rest of his body very well. But the most eye-catching part was the v-shape only just concealed by his pure white boxers. Very little was left to the imagination and, judging from the expression smeared across Butters' face, he knew it all too well. Shortly after he removed his boxers, Butters crumpled like a leaf onto his pillow in pure and unfiltered embarrassment. Upon closer inspection, Kenny could see little goosebumps littered across Butters' naked body, and he shuddered suddenly.

Butters was soon enveloped in a warm, pitch black blanket, and he gazed up in gratitude at Kenny, who looked away quickly after murmuring a "You're welcome." Someone cleared their throat.

"K-Kenny." Butters stammered quietly, "T-Truth or d-dare?"

"Let's go with… truth." Kenny responded, earning some surprised mutters from everyone else.

"Oh, umm… Uhh… How, ah, how far have you… gone with someone?" Butters asked, a very prominent blush shading his face. He gripped his blanket firmly.

"Oh no, you shouldn't have asked _Kenny _that. Everyone knows that he, like, bangs everyone else." Henrietta added, shaking her head slightly.

"Actually… that's a load of bullshit." Kenny stated suddenly, causing everyone to look at him in surprise. "I've, ah, never actually…"

Even Karen's eyes widened at his confession. "I've only received several blowjobs. And that's about as far as I've gone. No one's actually asked me before point-blank if I've ever slept with someone, so it was always assumed that I did it regularly. I'm sort of perverted, after all." Kenny stated almost apologetically at Butters.

"Wow. Maybe there is a God." Firkle said in awe.

"Anyway… Henrietta, truth or dare?" Kenny asked, not paying too much attention.

"Dare. What did you expect? I'm not a pansy, McCormick." She scoffed, watching as Pete wiggled his newly-painted nails experimentally.

"Whatever. Call your mom, say it's you, and then sing 'Well Suck Me!' by Blood on the Dance Floor. I know you know that song by heart, so don't pretend like you don't." Kenny smirked, stifling a chuckle as he watched her pout angrily.

"Tch. Fine." She snapped out her phone and dialed her home number. Her mother picked up after a few rings. "Hi Mom," She shot everyone in turn a deadly stare, resting her gaze on Kenny. "Yeah, I'm still at Firkle's, that's not why I called. You see…

"_The girlies suck my dick like an ice cream stick… And the girlies rub my nuts on the ice cream truck… You and me- an ice cream sandwich. My sweet cream is too much to manage! Put your cherry right on top, one it pops you cannot stop. Watch your panties fucking drop, like an orange push-up pop! You're an addict, problematic, I will be your brand new habit! …_

"Bye Mom. I hate you." An eruption of laughter flooded the room after she hung up. Michael and Pete were rolling about on the floor, laughing to the point of tears. Firkle looked entirely shocked, as if he had just been hit in the face. Karen had been giggling the entire time and was at the point where laughter was getting painful. Despite being generally amused by the dare, Kenny was even more impressed by Butters' reaction, who had missed the perverted message in the song entirely and was looking around quite confused.

A few more rounds of Truth or Dare passed before Karen addressed Kenny. "Kenny, truth or dare?"

Kenny would admit, he was surprised his sister would pick him for her next turn. After all, they had spent plenty of time humiliating each other. The glamour was gone by now, or so he thought. Surely, she must have something genuinely terrible in store for him. Yet, his morbid curiosity pressed him onward. "Dare."

Karen let a smile flourish across her face. She just _knew _he would pick dare if she asked! She sent a secret look to Henrietta and unknowingly set free an enormous chain of events. "Are you sure? Enough bullshitting around; this one's going to be the best dare yet. Still want dare, or would you rather pussy out with truth?"

Kenny's resolve predictably hardened. "Dare."

"Alriiight! Kenny, I dare you to….." She paused for dramatic effect. "Kiss one of the guys on the lips! For at least _five _seconds, got it? You can pick who."

Kenny looked around at the little group of goths, who scurried away from him in fear. "Don't pick me, okay Ken? I'm- I'm not ready for something like that today. Cause, like, my nails are very pink. I'm already gay enough today." Pete sputtered.

"And my underwear is on the outside of my pants. Which is a lot gayer in my opinion. And more painful on the genitals." Michael cut in quickly.

Kenny immediately knew where this was going. In fact, he was sure _everyone_ did. His sister was sneaky like that. "... Butters? Would you, ah, mind terribly if I… Kissed you?" Kenny quietly questioned his friend, who screwed his eyes shut in response.

"N-No, you can do it. It's… only for five seconds, right? N-N-No big deal." Butters whimpered, looking up at Kenny sheepishly.

"Yeah, no big deal." Kenny reassured him, tracing his eyes across the other blonde's naked body before he could stop himself. Both he and Butters were still sitting, and they shyly turned to face each other.

"Okay." Butters gulped, letting out a little tentative sigh. Kenny leaned in slowly, stopping before he lips could find Butters'. Was he really going to do this? To Butters, of all people? Ho could just get up and leave. Right now. Sure, he'd lose a considerable amount of pride, but at least he wouldn't be kissing another guy.

But instead, Kenny let his lips ghost Butters' before gently pressing them against his. Kenny had kissed a lot of girls before, but their was an unimaginable innocence and purity within this small kiss he had never experienced before. A voice became audible, but Kenny was too distracted to notice. He kissed Butters as softly and as unintrusively as he could, and was _severely _surprised as he felt his lips move in response. Butters was actually kissing him back! For once, Kenny had no idea how to react to something like this.

His first instinct was to deepen the kiss further, but he suddenly noticed an insistent tapping on his shoulder. He pulled away from Butters suddenly, who let out a shuddery breath in response, and turned to face the interruption.

"Uh, it's been twenty seconds." Karen informed Kenny, who suddenly felt exceedingly humiliated.

"Has it? I... wanted to play it safe. Otherwise you'd have me do it again, right?" Kenny replied, scooting away from Butters bashfully.

"Well, sure, but we were trying to get your attention for fifteen of those seconds. You really didn't notice?" She asked, suspiciously eyeing him.

"Not at all." Kenny lied, peering into his empty coffee cup evasively.

Several more rounds passed by awkwardly, a certain tension building up between Butters and Kenny, before Kenny confessed that he had a lot of homework he had to catch up on (if he wanted to get credits this year, that is) and that he needed to start heading home.

"...I can drive you home, if you want." Butters offered softly. "I need to get home and check in with my parents anyway. They'll ground me if I show up late, after all."

Unable to refuse an offer like that, Kenny thanked him before getting up to grab his things.

"Bye guys! See you tomorrow!" Kenny called as he went up the stairs with a rather nervous Butters.

After they got inside the car and buckled up, Butters drove Kenny to his house in excruciating silence. Neither knew what to say, or how to act around the other.

As the car stopped in front of Kenny's house (or shack, rather), Butters turned to face him. "Hey. So are we still okay after all that, or are we going to be all weird around each other and stuff? Cause I still want to hang out withyouandbeyourfri-"

Suddenly, he was cut off. Neither one saw it coming- neither even fully understood what was happening until Kenny's lips crashed against his own. Butters found himself kissing the blonde back, and his hands ran across the back of Kenny's shirt. But then, equally as suddenly, it all stopped. Kenny pulled away quickly and backed off Butters, eyes widening in surprise. "I-I'm sorry. I don't… I don't know what came over me. I need to go."

And with that, Kenny left.

* * *

Have any thoughts, suggestions, or comments, feel free to review! Let's me know that this story's being received well~ Also, several conflicts will be coming up next chapter- as well as the first appearance of Cartman and some more Style stuff :3 Until then!


	4. Damage

I apologize for the rather large pause between my last update and this one. Work and an unfortunate familiar face have been looming around my spare thought-time lately, so writing smut has taken a mini-pause. But! The action has subsided for now, so I present you... the first M-rated scene ;) A little gift from me to you~

I also want to take a moment to explain why I haven't taken the typical Kenny-down-the-path-of-destruction approach; it's just that. Typical. I myself am down this road all too often, so I'm being selfish and making my view of an older Kenny more stabil. It makes sense, doesn't it? His parents and older brother are more or less failures, so Kenny is trying to better himself and his sister by branching out and taking care of himself before taking on too much else. I'll make up for this lack of development by wigging out Butters instead. ;) There has been decided future angst and some gruesome stuff with Stan and Kyle as well, so if you're not able to handle that stuff... I advise you slow it down and take it down a notch on this one.

With that being said, I sincerely hope you enjoy this more comical chapter! :3 This title is taken from another Fit For Rivals song, 'Damage', and I don't own it or anything else mentioned here.

* * *

Ch. 4 Damage

**Later That Night...**

A hasty and almost guilty scampering of feet was barely audible as a flash of fire-red flitted by. Kyle's eyes ticked around his family's vacant living room cautiously before turning on his heel and making his way over to his younger brother's room. His parents were out visiting his aunt on her birthday, who resided in New Jersey. Clearly, they'd be gone for quite some time. Tentatively, his cold white hand reached out and pushed open the slightly ajar door. He peered into Ike's darkened room, only to be greeted by the sound of a soft snore. Good. The only other person in the house was fast asleep.

Satisfied, he padded up the stairs and entered his own room, taking care to shut his door. It was a pity his door didn't have a lock. What would happen next would require absolute solitude for his own sake.

He carefully bent down and reached under his bed in order to extract a rather plain shoebox. He held it for a moment, frozen in place. Was he _really _going to do this? _Him?_ Please.

No. He shook the persistent thoughts aside. He had promised himself that he'd at least try it out. Otherwise, his inner demons might never cease gnawing away at his subconscious. He absolutely _must _proceed with his plan.

And this is how, with trembling fingers, Kyle found himself sprawled naked on top of his bed daintily grasping his brand new dildo.

Now that he was holding it, he took a moment to examine his purchase (which he had merely cast away under his bed after his embarrassing endeavor of buying the damn thing) and wondered just how, exactly, one goes about using it, _especially _when they were a male. Since Kyle was, indeed, Kyle, he had looked up numerous tutorials and several descriptions online as to how he was to supposed to proceed without hurting anything important. Yet, there was always that distinct nagging sensation (that was most likely his common sense) that stilled him from attempting.

He wrestled with his thoughts until he decided that he would just take it slowly, and, if need be, consult any guides that could assist along the way (embarrassing as it may sound).

He was enveloped in the soft yellow hue coming from his bedside lamp. Directly across from his bed, always within his line of vision, was a full-length mirror. Staring back at him was a creamy-skinned, fiery reflection of himself. Examining closer, he could easily see that not only was he aroused by the adrenaline rush found at the prospect of trying something new, but also his cheeks were a tinted flush and his eyes caged behind the iron bars of lust.

He clutched his newest purchase firmly and decided with newfound determination to start by merely rubbing it against his entrance. That wasn't supposed to hurt after all, and it didn't. In fact, it was beginning to feel rather good. Kyle congratulated himself on his first small victory of the night.

After he determined he was comfortable enough with it merely being around that area of his body, he drew out his free hand to open his nightstand drawer and fish around for an elusive bottle of lubricant. Settling on a small unscented hand lotion, he snatched and quickly uncapped it before dotting some onto his hand.

Carefully rubbing the lotion onto each side of the soon-to-be new intrusion rather equally, he deemed it ready and went back to gently stroking his hole. Then, as slowly as he could, he began applying enough pressure needed to allow half of the head inside of him.

A shrill gasp escaped him as he tried to get used to the bizarre new object within him. Realizing how little of it was in, he grimaced before gingerly pulling the dildo out and pushing it back inside, a little farther this time.

He let out a little groan as a shock of pain coursed through him in response. He waited several moments for it to subside, the head now fully engulfed within him. He pumped it several times, and gradually it began to slide further and further inside of his entrance with growing ease. Within each thrust, the pain was transforming into a heated, aching desire, and Kyle was beginning to better comprehend the appeal of this sensation.

…._Stan..._

He noticed he was beginning to get more adventurous with his own body, aiming the fake cock at different areas within him and trying out other angles to see how they felt. Looking up, he saw himself shove the dildo inside of him roughly, with pure desire scrawled across his heated face. His member blossomed from mild interest into a full-on pulsing erection.

"...S-Stan…."

He observed, as his motions grew more and more passionate, that it was becoming gradually more and more difficult to stop himself from crying out. His self-restraint crumbled as a breathy moan fluttered from his lips. It was tempting- _oh, so tempting!_- to restrain himself from stroking his aching dick. He wanted nothing more than to achieve that coveted white-hot release, but he had made the split-second decision to reach his orgasm through nothing but penetration.

"Oh, please…. Stan…"

His movements felt wired, and he progressed to mercilessly thrusting the dildo into him over and over, until the entire length was inside. He could swear he could almost hear his door, situated directly behind his bed, squeak open.

"Stan… Stan, please…"

He could feel the fake balls smack against his ass roughly, repeating in a frenzied hurry as he fought to find his finish. Suddenly, the dildo struck a particularly sensitive area, and Kyle found himself unable to string together coherent thoughts. Wait, was that… a throat being cleared?

"S… Sta…"

With precision he didn't know he possessed, Kyle managed to stab this area over and over again, and with a sharp moan, white ribbons leapt across his chest, leaving behind a very revealing pattern and a sticky residue. With a content sigh, he pulled out the dildo and laid back on his bed in exhaustion. His eyes closed as sleep was starting to take over him.

"Uh, so… Is now a bad time?"

Kyes bright green eyes snapped open and he threw his head up in pure horror, facing his intruder. A blood-curdling shriek escaped from his lips as he stared up at his best friend's only _slightly_ mortified face.

"_Stan?! What are you DOING here?!"_

"My dad's drunk again, and Shelly stopped by the house to stress us out, so here I am. More importantly," Kyle scrambled to cover himself with the slightly stained sheets, "What are YOU doing?"

"I.. I was, well… E-Experimenting?" Kyle stammered, words stumbling over each other.

"I could tell. So…. Uhh... Are you…?" Stan looked pointedly at his naked, red-headed friend.

"I… I guess so."

"Wow. I'm… wow. I'm totally fine with it, don't get me wrong, it's just a little surprising. But hey, if that's who you are, then I'm cool with it." Stan stated, still a little taken aback. "I'll step out so you can change, then we could play some late-night video games or something. Unless you want me to go?"

"N-No! It's alright. It'd be nice to get a bit of a distraction." Kyle replied, watching as a small, awkward grin pulled across Stan's face before he nodded and stepped out.

Jesus Christ, it's a good thing it didn't seem like Stan understood that Kyle was only interested in the same sex _because _of him.

**Roughly Twelve Hours Later…**

"Trouble in paradise?"

Kyle's sleepless, vacant eyes snapped up to meet Kenny's inquisitive bustle of the commons murmured and buzzed excitedly as Kyle formulated his response. "Truthfully? A bigger shit storm hasn't dropped on me in months. Last night was a catastrophe."

"You too, huh?" Kenny muttered almost inaudibly as Kyle knitted his eyebrows together curiously. A roll of thunder rumbled from outside, causing a garbled rift within the crowded students. "What happened, then?"

Kyle shifted uncomfortably, meeting Kenny's deep and rather pensive stare head-on. "Stan happened. Last night. He invited himself over when I was… well…" He lowered his voice, "Masturbating..._anally._"

Kenny let out a sharp, short bark of laughter, catching the attention of both Cartman and, unsurprisingly, Butters, who was sitting with him at the other end of the table listening to the larger teen's current tirade over… Wendy? Kyle? Based on the excessive swearing (even by Cartman standards), either was a fair shot. The tempered gaze of Cartman's muddy brown eyes passed over and onto him, effectively heating his anger-and-shame filled skin to a high boil. Stubbornly, Kyle turned away from the offending beefy boy and returned his focus to Kenny, who was buckled over in a painful fit of laughter, seemingly permanently.

"What the _hell_, Kyle?! That's so… Wow! Despite knowing of your super-secret affections for Stan, I had no idea you were this adventurous! Congrats, man." Kenny chuckled, slapping his hand against the table good-naturedly.

"Ugh, I don't know why I bother to tell you these things." Kyle groaned, sifting through his oddly-colored slushie in humiliation. He cast a look back down at Cartman and Butters' end of the table and was quite alarmed to see that Butters was looking directly at him and Kenny as well.

"You bother 'cause you know I won't say anything to your little man-crush," Kenny laughed, grabbing Kyle's spoon and sneaking a bite of the green and orange shredded ice. "I wouldn't worry, if I was you. Assuming you put on a good show, he'll be coming over here any minute begging for your sweet ass."

Kyle gave him a half-hearted snicker as, sure enough, Stan appeared from the double doors, making idle talk with Token and Clyde. Since Kyle didn't have any morning classes with his best friend, this was the first time he'd seen him since last night. As Stan parted with his two classmates and began walking towards their table, Kyle could feel his nerves light on fire underneath that thin, weak layer of skin.

"Hey guys. So, Kyle, are we still on after school? I know I forgot to mention it yesterday, sorry 'bout that." Stan sat down directly next to his closest friend, much to his amazement and Kenny's amusement. An 'I-told-you-so' expression smeared it's way across the dirty blonde's smug face.

"Oh, shit! I nearly forgot about that! But yeah, of course I'll be there." Kyle responded as a darker tone overcast the conversation. It was the one year anniversary, and Kyle had nearly forgotten. So _that _was why Stan had dropped by so unexpectedly last night. It all was clear now.

"Thanks. I'll pick you up after seventh period then. We'll need to make a couple quick stops before, but it shouldn't take that long." Stan looked down at his plate of Chinese orange chicken and stirred the rice somberly. The small group quieted and went back to eating.

"Um, e-excuse me." A small, unsure voice cut sharply through the accumulating thickness. "K-Kenny? Can we… Can we talk?"

Kenny's head snapped up from his very bare plate and was shell-shocked to see Butters looking down at him in heightened trepidation. Fuck.

"What makes you think I want to talk right now? I didn't want to talk in Art or before first period, so why do you think I'd want to talk now? Like I said before, _nothing happened. _So just drop it already."

A moment or two passed before Kenny heard the harsh tone in his words. "Shit, I'm sorry. I'm a dick, okay? I've got a lot going on and, well, you're a great guy. I don't want to drag you through all of that."

Another round of silence greeted him before Kenny finally chose to look up at Butters. The shorter blonde before him was looking up at the rafters almost dreamily before choosing his response. "W-Well, you already did. And, for the record." Butters leaned in considerately to whisper into Kenny's ear in order for it to be inaudible to Stan and Kyle, "You and I both know that something _did_ happen. If you want to pretend like it isn't, I'm fine with that, but at least go back to treating me like your f-friend, okay? 'Cause otherwise Art class w-won't be as fun as before, a-and I'll miss you and your band quite a lot!"

Kenny's heart gave a slight wrench hearing those words. Surely, as long as he didn't get too attached, it wouldn't be that awful of an idea to at least spend some time with Butters. He'd make sure Butters would only see that optimistic, light-hearted side of him he was much more comfortable being in front of others. It was him, truly, just not _all _of him. From what he could tell, Butters enjoyed being around Happy Kenny. So he'd keep up his favorite charade for him.

"That… That sounds nice. The band's not meeting today, but you and I could do something later instead. What sounds good to you?"

"Well, I have a lot of homework so far today. Would you mind going to the Tweek Coffeehouse to study?" Butters asked meekly.

"Sure. I've got some work to do too. If I plan on graduating, that is." Kenny winked jokingly, invoking a slight giggle out of Butters. "Are you going back to fatass so you can continue to look like a hurt puppy, or would you like to sit here instead? If you stay, I promise I won't scream at you too loudly."

"Deal." Butters laughed jubilantly as he went back to a stormy Cartman in order to retrieve whatever still remained of his lunch.

"What the fuck was that about? Did you two get into an argument or something last night?" Kyle asked, and Kenny finally remembered that both he and Stan were still there and had watched the exchange rather shell-shocked. After all, they were still getting used to Kenny and Butters' new friendship.

"Kind of."

"What happened?"

"Stuff."

"Are you _embarrassed?"_

"N-No!"

"Yes, you are! You never blush!"

"Shut the fuck up."

Kyle rolled his forest green eyes as Butters returned carrying his own set of Chinese food, which had been mostly picked over aside from some rice and a fortune cookie. He slid next to Kenny and resumed eating along with Kyle and Stan. A short moment later, Kenny could feel Butters' eyes on him and, sure enough, the blonde addressed him. "Do you want some of my rice? I'm pretty much done."

Kenny fought a silent battle with his pride before his hunger eventually won out. "Sure. Thanks."

Butters took the remaining fortune cookie in his hand and cracked it open, eating the cookie before reading the fortune. After the last of his crunches receded, a short period of time passed as he scanned the little paper. A quick squeak emitted from the younger blonde before he silenced it and began to hide the little folded fortune underneath his napkin. Unfortunately for him, Kenny's hand shot out automatically and interfered the paper, snatching it up as Butters let out several protests.

"Kenny, no! No, no! Don't-"

"Huhuhu…." A sly grin inched on to Kenny's face as he stared at his horrified friend. "'_Despite some setbacks, you will have luck sexually. Pursue your wishes aggressively.'_ They seriously make these kinds of fortunes?!"

Kyle and Stan let out surprised strands of laughter as Butters' face colored and he socked Kenny in the shoulder. "Y-You know these are f-full of b-bullshit…"

"Nah, I think deep down, you're a sexual beast. The cookie is telling you the truth!" Kenny teased, watching as Butters glared at him good-humoredly.

"You wish!"

Seventh period rolled by, and Kenny approached the smaller gym with a Butters following close behind. They entered the locker room together and began to change clothes with Kyle and Stan. Well, Kenny was at least. Like before, Butters mysteriously disappeared in a bathroom stall and only emerged when he was in full sports attire. Kenny could understand that more than he'd like to admit. His arms and back was ripped to hell, leaving behind some ghostly and some pink scars he'd rather not let everyone openly view. But years of living with this shame had hardened him to the stares and the occasional questions that followed.

However, it would seem that whatever Butters was shy about was getting the better of him and confining him to the stalls. For now, Kenny would leave him be. But the fact that someone so… breakable was hiding something like this was enough to put Kenny into a state of temporary unease. Perhaps it was nothing.

Kenny slipped on his gym shorts and was lucky enough to witness the slight wince Kyle made after he stood up from tying his shoes. Stan had noticed it as well, and Kenny was pleased to see a slight blush highlight the teen's face.

He couldn't resist after all. "You alright, Kyle? Did Stan ram you too hard last night?"

There was no distinction between Kyle's face and his bright red hair. Laughter tore its way out of Kenny's chest. "Sh-Shut UP, Kenny! That's totally uncalled for!"

Kenny's smile faded as Kyle slammed his half-naked body against a locker. Vaguely, he remembered the very same thing to Butters several days ago. He decided he liked doing the pushing better than being pushed.

"Do you two need a room?" Stan interjected sourly, watching as Kyle released his vice-grip on the blonde.

"A-Absolutely not!" Kyle sniffed, snatching his inhaler and sticking out his tongue at Kenny before stalking off. Stan said goodbye to Kenny before catching up to his best friend and throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Kenny could faintly hear Stan say, "Don't let him get to you.." before the door slid shut behind the pair. He smiled and noted that Butters had just finished up preparing for Low Impact.

"You almost done?" He asked, leaning against Kenny's locker.

"Almost. Just need a shirt and shoes." Kenny replied, snatching up a stray sneaker. After he finished getting properly clothed, the two headed upstairs to wait for their teacher and the rest of their classmates.

They watched as their teacher, Mrs. Hisaw, got up before the class and cleared her throat. "Today we were supposed to go outside and walk to and from Stark's Pond, but since it's raining out, we'll be doing a circuit instead." The class groaned, "Get in groups of six and go to one of the workout stations."

It was understood between both Butters and Kenny that they would undoubtedly be grouped together. There were two other males in the class, both Hispanic and very silent, who decide to pair up with them too. The last two members of their odd little group of leftovers was a slightly overweight girl, and a pretty brunette who had a baby with her. Yeah, they didn't really fit in here too well.

Mrs. Hisaw filled the class in on how to properly do each workout and which circuit they were supposed to go to next once their five minutes were up. After the first couple exercises, Butters and Kenny forged a rivalry to see who could get the most burpees, lunges, and whatever else done. Bye the third round, both were gasping for air.

"S...ix!" Butters cried next to him, before attempting another pull-up. Kenny was nearly falling behind; he kept getting distracted by the concentrated, hardened glare Butters had when he tried to drag himself above the steel bar. And the way his hips would thrust up a little every time in an attempt to help relieve the stress put on his arms. If this continued much longer, Kenny would have not only overly sore muscles to deal with, but also a tent in his pants. That would be just plain obnoxious.

"Time! You're done for the day. Good work guys." Hisaw called out, sighs of relief escaping from very corner of the weight room.

"Damn, we survived!" Kenny exclaimed as they stood up, and Butters let out a tired laugh before clenching the other blonde in a hug.

"We did it." He breathed. Kenny felt through the slightly damp shirt the muscles hidden away in Butters upper body. Needless to say, this didn't help his oncoming erection any.

"L-Let's get out of here."

* * *

So, this is the end of Chapter 4~ Next chapter will be the study sesh and sadness involving Stan and Kyle. And other stuff I'll come up with xP Maybe I'll throw in some Candy, maybe I'll wait. Dunno yet~ I do know exactly where this fic is going, at least! It'll be a little surprise~ :3

A big thank you to those of you that favorite, follow, and review! It's always such a nice surprise whenever it happens, and it lets me know whether this is turning out alright or not~


	5. It's Still The Same Dull Knife

**Chapter 5- It's Still The Same Dull Knife**

Greetings everyone~ This chapter's a lot more darker than the others, so please brace yourself. Darker things are what I'm more comfortable writing, anyway. Failure, pain, neglect, loss… Bring it on. Happy love scenes? Yeah, not so much! XP I'm really going to try though~ Since that's what I enjoy more anyway. The title is a line from 'Knives and Pens' by Black Veil Brides. Enjoy~

* * *

Butters admittedly had wanted to be Kenny's real best friend for a very long time. The first time he realized this was when his native people were summoning him back to Hawaii and he was in a fitful, confused rage. It had surprised not only Kenny and the rest of their peers, but Butters himself. It was a deeper truth about himself that hadn't properly surfaced until he let his uglier emotions get the better of him.

Under normal circumstances, he would've attempted to gain Kenny's respect sooner by doing menial tasks for him and being his permanent scapegoat, like he did countless of times for Eric and his friends. But Kenny was different. Butters knew (along with mostly everyone else) that Kenny had a pretty rough life from poverty to abuse, yet despite that he managed to get up each morning and joke around with his friends as if nothing serious was going on. Butters not only respected Kenny's willpower, he admired him and wished he could be half as brave as him.

And that's why he refused to be just another doormat to Kenny; a total easy pushover. He wanted to forge a friendship with the other blonde that was actually _worth _something to Kenny. Butters wasn't nearly as stupid as he led on to be, and knew full well that Cartman spent time with him only because he could use him at his disposal. And, at first, Butters was _fine_ with that. He never knew of true friendship or how it was supposed to work, so he assumed that within every friendship there was one person who benefited and one person to be the 'caretaker' of sorts. He only realized that this wasn't the case sometime in eighth grade, when he started spending more time with Stan and Kyle. He really enjoyed being around them- not purely because he felt accepted (although that was an important element), but because he got to watch how a true friendship was supposed to work. It gave him hope, but also felt like a slow, dripping poison since his childhood had already dried up fruitlessly. He wouldn't get to experience the feeling of having a 'childhood best friend' anymore. He blew his chance by trying too hard. What had he done wrong? Was there any way he could possibly fix it this late in the game?

Kenny swung open the door to Tweek Bros and turned to hold it open for Butters. "Do you know what you'd like to drink? I'd recommend staying away from their Dark Roast. Let's just say I know a little too much about the processing and handling…"

Butters smiled gratefully and entered the coffee house as Kenny let go of the door. "Don't worry, I'm not much of a coffee person. I'll just get a hot chocolate."

"Alright then." Kenny approached Mr. Tweak, who was sitting behind the counter cross-legged and absorbed in a book titled 'The Melody of Coffee Beans'.

"Oh, hello Kenny. Butters. How's it going? Miserable weather today, huh?" He got up, thumbing through some pages before dog-earring one and setting the book aside. "What can I do you for?"

"He'd like a hot chocolate, and I'll take a 16 ounce Chi Latte." Kenny responded, feeling around in his back pocket for his wallet as Butters gave him a look.

"Oh no. I'm paying! You're the one who offered to come with me, the least I can do is pay, right? Here." Butters tossed a five at Mr. Tweak before Kenny could protest. "Keep the change. S-So you're a Chi Latte person, huh? I wouldn't have guessed."

"I don't usually get sweet things, so it's all the better when I finally do." Kenny explained, thanking Tweek's father as they went to sit down at a vacant table. "But you're right, I usually get a normal black coffee. Just… not today."

The two blondes went silent as they unzipped their backpacks to retrieve their work. Butters pulled out his French textbook and began studying their new vocab for the week. He couldn't understand why they were learning 'cucumber salad' in the Transportation Unit. Every few seconds his focus would waver; he'd notice the way Kenny's black tee was pulled up a little, revealing a small white crescent that was a part of his side. Or how Kenny's brow was creased in concentration while he flipped through his German book for a particularly hard to remember verb structure when applied in the past tense. Looking down at Kenny's shoulder, Butters could get an upside-down view of the troublesome problem.

"_I-Ich denke.. es ist 'ist geflogen'? So, die Antwort ist 'Ich flog nach H-Hawaii letzten Sommer', ja?_* S-Sorry if my German's bad, it's been a while." Butters supplied as Kenny started up at him in amazement.

"_Du sprichst deutsch? _Wow, I had no idea! When did you learn German?!"

Butters thought for a moment. "Three years ago, maybe? I w-was bored one summer, so I decided to buy some German books and learn it. The only other language I knew at the time was Somalian. B-But now, I also know French and Albanian! I guess I like languages."

"That's kind of amazing," Kenny laughed, watching as Butters' face reddened. "I can barely learn one!"

"Gosh, t-thanks Kenny. But really, if you take some time a-an' put a little effort into it, anybody could do it." Butters kneaded his knuckles nervously. He couldn't remember the last time someone had actually bothered to give him a compliment.

"Not really. There's some things that I can do really good, and some things I can't even properly bullshit. German is one of them." Kenny stated matter-of-factly, watching curiously as Butters became more and more fidgety.

"W-Well, you _are _much better at writing than I am. Remember back in middle school when you got that first place Journalism Award? Your writing style was a heck of a lot more creative than mine!" Butters pointed out quickly, sifting through his backpack to locate a pen.

"Heheh, I can't believe you remember that! That was eons ago. I only won because I described our teacher's boobs as detailed as humanly possible, and the judge of the event was a sleazy balding man. And you _know_ full well that you've surpassed me in almost everything else. Face it; you're a pretty intelligent guy." Kenny said, observing as Butters' face morphed inexplicably.

He didn't mean that. He was just saying that to be nice. Kenny was a nice guy. It made sense. Kenny wouldn't- _couldn't_- actually mean what he just said. Butters had accepted long ago that everyone around him was far superior in every way, and that the best he could do was fight as hard as he could to keep up. But Butters was much more flawed than people like Kenny, so keeping up was nearly impossible. Even when Kenny slipped up and missed days of school without so much as an explanation, he would always catch himself. It reminded Butters of how cats always landed on their own two feet. Surely Kenny knew this.

"Oh, I think our drinks our ready!" Butters suddenly slapped his French textbook and pen down on their table and stood to grab the drinks from a nonchalant Mr. Tweak. "Thanks."

"So Kenny, do you have any idea what you want to do after school ends?" Butters asked, blowing on the surface of his very hot hot chocolate.

"Kind of. Well… not really." Kenny admitted, gazing into the swirled foam resting on top if his latte. "I've thought about it more than I'd care to admit, but… I just don't know anymore. I want to have some kind of business involving art in some shape or form, but I don't think I'd make very much money that way."

Butters saw his chance and thought for a moment before speaking. "I've always had a sort of 'Plan B' that sounds a bit like that. You know, in case I messed up at this school I've been looking at. I have a relative over in Washington that has her own winery. She hires artists to design her bottle covers and sell art in her shop. The Community College right by the one I've been eyeing, Whitman, is one of the few in the country to even _teach _how wine is made. A-Apparently the town used to be a swamp a long time ago, so the soil is great for cultivating grapes. And onions." Kenny snickered. "But the town's actually pretty nice. I've visited my cousin there several times and am now rather fond of it. It's pretty and not as… wonky as South Park either."

Kenny laughed. "Oh shit, that sounds _perfect!_ I hate this town with a passion. I've never thought of owning a winery before. It makes sense though. If there's one thing I know well, it's alcohol! Plus, if you do decide to go to Whitman, I'll at least know one person there that I like. And it's not _terribly _far away from Colorado, so Karen could come visit. God, it's perfect, Butters! And hey, if Whitman turns out to be terrible, I'll gladly let you be my right-hand man." He winked, earning a giggle from the blonde.

"That sounds pretty great, Ken." Butters sighed, pulling out his work once again. Suddenly, he remembered that he hadn't texted his parents letting them know where he was. "Uh, e-excuse me a minute."

"Sure thing." Kenny replied, slipping his pencil behind his ear as he searched for a spare piece of paper.

Butters stood and made his way to the unisex bathroom stall, shutting and locking the door once inside. He typed '1' into his speed dial and listened as the phone rang once before being promptly picked up.

"Butters? Where are you, son?" His father asked. Ever since they had gone to counseling together several years ago, his father had relaxed on his rigid 'come back straight after school without a word' policy. However, his strict cleaning regimen and grade expectation remained unwavering, and he refused to let his son go anywhere that hadn't been dubbed as an 'acceptable, safe place'.

"I'm at the Tweek Coffeehouse with Kenny, Sir. W-We're studying for sch- for school." Butters informed quickly, waiting in anticipation for his father's response.

"McCormick? You've been hanging out with him a lot, haven't you? Why don't you invite him for dinner this Saturday? I want to know anyone who's spending time with my son this often." Mr. Stotch commanded.

"I-I'll ask. He might be busy, though. B-but I-I'll try my best." Butters replied, listening as his father gave a content hum.

"Alright. Goodbye, Butters."

"B-Bye, Dad."

The line went silent. Butters took an extra moment to splash some cold water on his face and dry off before he left the confinement of the little orange room to go find Kenny. When he returned to the blonde, he found him shuffling through his vocab cards in unbroken concentration.

"Kenny," Butters began nervously, capturing the unruly teen's attention. "W-Would you, um, w-would you like to… come over for dinner this S-Saturday? I m-mean, you don't have to. If you have other plans or something I totally understand."

"Nah, I'm pretty much free this weekend. The band's meeting on Sunday rather than Saturday because, "Saturday's too mainstream"". Kenny rolled his eyes with a grin. "So, count me in. I don't think I've ever been over to your house before."

"Yeah, I d-don't think you have either. I'll let my parents know that you're coming over then." Butters responded, prying out his next book, this time for AP Literature.

"Hey, uh, do you know if this town has a dance studio? She hasn't exactly said anything about it, but I get the feeling that Karen's interested in learning how to dance." Kenny asked nonchalantly.

"I don't really remember all that well, but I think there was one downtown. I'll have to check online. Or maybe I'll ask my cousin." Butters supplied, suppressing a smile. Kenny seemed to be quite heartened by the idea of Walla Walla. Maybe he assumed that he'd always get sucked back into South Park, regardless of his intentions. Butters sometimes felt that way too. Whether or not this would occur, he was glad he could at least provide temporary hope for the guy he considered to be his best friend and then some.

_**Meanwhile…**_

Kyle wasn't sure how to properly deal with the situation that presented itself before him. After school ended, he and Stan made their way back to their houses and changed into a set of nicer, cleaner clothes. An afterthought convinced Kyle to run back inside and dig up his old green ushanka before running back outside to meet Stan at the side of the road.

"Wow, it's been forever since you've worn that all thing." Stan commented in a slightly strained tone. He could hardly blame him.

"I thought it was appropriate." Kyle replied, watching his closest friend out of the corner of his eye as they walked towards the dark-haired teen's car.

Stan opened the passenger's door for Kyle before making his way over to the driver's side. "Are you sure you're alright to drive, man? I don't mind driving us there this time."

"You hate highways. They make you nervous." Stan responded simply, getting inside along with the redhead.

"I'd make an exception this one time. At least let me drive you on the way back, man." Kyle insisted, buckling his seatbelt.

"We'll see." Stan said, bringing the car to life and backing out of the parking lot. "We need to make a few stops first, anyway."

They drove in silence for several minutes. Kyle watched as South Park blurred by them in a dizzying haze. He chose not to comment that Stan was driving well above the speed limit. Looking over at his friend, a sinking sense of concern washed over him, making him feel almost nauseous. He was upset too, but what he was feeling was probably nothing compared to what Stan was going through. He couldn't believe that last night he had the audacity to experiment the way he did. He should've waited at _least _a week after today. Then again, Kyle certainly didn't expect to have a visitor…

Kyle pulled himself from his thoughts as the car stopped in front of South Park's tiny, barely noticeable flower shop. The two friends hopped out of the car and made their way to the shop's door, together.

"Do you know what you're going to get her?" Kyle asked, grabbing Stan's hand in reassurance.

"Lilacs. She loves lilacs. Especially purple ones. Do you remember? Whenever she gives me or Shelly or Dad or you a birthday present she always includes a purple lilac. You can always tell whether or not she actually gives a shit about anyone based on if you get a lilac for your birthday or not."

"As I recall, Cartman never received a single one." Kyle replied, a small smile cracking onto his face as he heard Stan snicker in response.

They looked around at the various flowers before Stan spotted an array of purple lilacs and grabbed it. He headed towards the cash register and started to make his purchase while Kyle continued browsing. He sized up numerous arrangements before eyeing a single, beautiful lily. A lily represented friendship and devotion, and therefore a fitting choice for Kyle, indeed. He carefully picked it up and joined Stan up front.

After paying, the two headed out and went back inside the car. Within moments, the car started up again and they made their way out of the little redneck town. The drive to Middle Park was a long, winding one. Kyle knew that if he turned to stare out of his side window he'd start to feel carsick in under thirty seconds. His worries for Stan seemed to be winding with the highway, as if a child were cranking up a toy before it finally reaches its end and explodes into a violent splay of mechanical movement. Kyle hoped to God that Stan wouldn't be like that today.

An hour or so passed by in relative silence before a small gas station dotted the side of the road just ahead of them. Without a single word, Stan pulled the car into the station and he got out to fill it with a fresh tank of gas while Kyle went inside the store to buy enough junk food to feed an entire army. As he stepped out with his arms full of groceries, he noticed that Stan was already inside of the car. Curious, he walked toward the dark-haired teen only to observe that he was entirely motionless, staring ahead vacantly with a stony expression carved into his face. He looked fake, like a wax figure of the original Stan Marsh. This empty version of Kyle's best friend couldn't possibly be the true Stan.

Unfortunately, Kyle had seen him like this more times than he'd ever like to. Last year was far worse, after all. Stan was able to function much more normally this year, but sometimes, when Stan thought no one could see or hear him, he'd fall back within himself- where his darker, scared thoughts manifested themselves. Almost every night Kyle spent over at his house, he could faintly hear his friend's sobs. It was haunting, severely heart-shattering, and there was little Kyle could do about it. Was pretending nothing happened- like what Kenny has been doing- really the best thing for Stan? Kyle couldn't imagine that possibly quelling the demons eating away at his friend's mind, at least not for very long. You can only run so much until you start to tire, after all. No, Kyle _must _continue to acknowledge this, for Stan's sake. As long as it's done in a logical, careful way.

"Stan, I have more Cheesy Poofs than Cartman's ever eaten in his entire life in my hands. Do you mind opening my door?" Kyle asked through his open window. Stan seemed to snap out of his trance before weakly grinning and reaching over to pull down the handle.

"Fuck, man. Do you really think we can eat all of those?" Stan asked incredulously, starting up the car yet again as Kyle threw several of the bags in the backseat before opening one for Stan and himself.

"If we don't, we'll just have to save and split the rest. And give some to Kenny. That guy's all skin and bones!" Kyle exclaimed, popping a Cheesy Poof into his mouth.

"So are you." Stan snickered before reaching a hand over sneakily and pinching Kyle's side.

"H-Hey! What the fuck! I'm not NEARLY as skinny as Kenny!" Kyle proclaimed loudly, rubbing his reddening side in mock irritation.

"Like hell you are! You move around enough in your sleep to the point where I've got your entire body mass mapped out. Why are you so skinny, man?" Stan teased, grabbing a handful of Poofs.

"I don't do an extra sport, so I don't have nearly as much bulkiness as you! And when have I EVER moved around in my sleep?" Kyle exclaimed.

"Almost all the time, dude. I just have never said anything before now!" Stan chuckled, watching Kyle's face redden.

"Why the hell not?!"

"It was just too funny! I was afraid you'd stop doing it if I told you! Then what would I have to laugh about?" Stan explained good-naturedly, cautiously leaving out the finer details.

"STAN! Goddamn it!" Kyle shouted, face-palming in humiliation.

"Don't be so upset, man! I don't mind it! In fact…" Stan paused to look over at Kyle's face freeze. "... Nevermind."

"What?! 'In fact' what?!" Kyle demanded, launching a lone Cheesy Poof at Stan's cheek who laughed in response.

"Nevermind! I've already said enough!" Stan teased.

"Come ON! You can't leave me like this, man! Plus, think of all the stuff I've told _you!_ You owe me!" Kyle insisted, withholding the bag of Cheesy Poofs defiantly as Stan reached for another fistful.

"Alright, _fine._ As I was saying, I don't really mind you getting all affectionate in your sleep. If I've been having a shitty day or something it was nice knowing that at least, despite everything going on around me, I still had you. It's comforting, in a way." Stan looked straight ahead at the road before them, but even so Kyle could see a secret little smile flicker on his face.

"Good. I'll always be here. No matter what shit happens or where we decide to go, I'll always have your back, man."

"...Thanks, Kyle."

Fifteen minutes later, the two friends finally reached their last destination. A respective silence consumed their laughter and light-hearted banter. The only noise audible was the two slams of Stan's car doors.

They walked together down the cobblestone path, looking down at their feet and clutching their flower purchases. A breezy wind whipped around them and tossed their hair into a thoughtless disarray. Finally, their feet came to an abrupt halt.

Before them, resting at their feet in an awful haze, was a very unnatural, very cold stone. It didn't stand out among the others, like everyone expects theirs to. It's ability to blend in and be forgotten was a devastating truth that hit Kyle hard. It was just there, just existing, displaying a painful end to a wonderful life. The stone was new and a pristine white, yet Kyle was incapable of reading the words etched onto it. It was curious, really. He had read countless of books, numerous documents, and yet, here he was. Unable to read nor understand the words that he already knew were there.

"Hi, Mom." Stan rasped, and for the first time since entering the yard, Kyle noticed how heavily impacted he was. His face was red, his eyes wavering with carefully held tears. His back was hunched, like an older man's would be. In fact, Stan seemed to be aging a year with each passing second. He knelt in front of his mother and placed a respectful hand onto her assumed name.

Kyle had no idea what was going through Stan's head right now, but at the same time, he did. If there was one person he understood, it was Stan. And losing his mother was a devastating blow for him. He probably wanted to tell her all of what he's been up to lately, and get her opinion on important decisions, like which college should he attend. But Kyle knew Stan hadn't the audacity to voice all of these now seemingly unimportant thoughts and instead resorted to a humbled silence.

Sharon was one of the few voices of reason in the Marsh household. Without her, and with Shelly going to college, Stan only had his irrational, eccentric father. Surely, this was taxing even without the absence of his mother.

Kyle watched in amazement as his best friend managed to speak once again. "I miss you. I hope you're okay, wherever you are right now. I love you. Shelly… Shelly and Dad'll be here later today to see you. Please watch over them, especially Dad. He's not… He's not doing so great without you. None of us are. I brought your favorite flowers with me. Purple lilacs….. Kyle's with me too. He came to see you, too. So many people miss you, Mom. You're a great person, you know? Sure, you were a bit hard on me sometimes. But at the end of the day, you'd do anything to protect me. I hope you're happy, Mom, wherever you are. I love you."

Stan carefully placed his bouquet of flowers underneath her stone and watched with an expression of despair as Kyle placed his lily next to it.

"She was a wonderful mom. I remember being jealous of you, because my mom was a lot more nuttier than yours. Sharon would always make the best food, and wouldn't tell my parents if I ate bacon at your house for breakfast. And even though she argued a lot with Randy, she really loved the hell out of him. I brought a lily because it represents friendship and devotion. She was a devoted, loving mother to you and even to me. She was practically my second mom, and I'll never forget her for that. Thank you Mrs. Marsh for accepting and caring for me."

It was a car accident. On a perfectly normal and snowy day, Sharon had been driving Stan to the grocery store in order to pick up cereal, snacks, dinner… And suddenly a car flew out of nowhere, with a drunken man in his forties as the driver. Apparently, not only was the man drunk, but he was in the middle of getting tested for schizophrenia, so it can be assumed that he wasn't in the right mind-frame to even properly take care of or control himself. Their car was hit from the side, and it just so happened that it was the driver's side. Ever since then, Stan acted different in cars and finally confessed that being inside of one panicked him.

There was a perfectly fine graveyard in South Park, but it was a rather small-sized one and, due to the town's rather violent history, there simply wasn't enough room for Mrs. Marsh to be properly buried. So Middle Park was the next option.

Stan wiped his eyes and gestured for Kyle to follow him. "Come on. Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"...Yeah."

* * *

*"I think it's 'flew'. So the answer is 'I flew to Hawaii last summer', right?"

Well, I hope I don't get too much hate for killing off a character without much notice! Next chapter I finally get to include on of my personal favorite characters, Randy Marsh. :3 I love that crazy man. Feedback on the story is greatly appreciated~ 3


	6. What Will Become Of My Dear Friend?

**Chapter 6- What Will Become Of My Dear Friend?**

The title of this chapter in from 'Sally's Song' by Amy Lee.

* * *

Contrary to Stan's previous decision, he and Kyle chose to wait at a nearby restaurant for Stan's remaining family members.

"Welcome to Shari's! Can I take your order?" A pleasant woman with a sweep of Greek brunette curls pinned up and away greeted the two dismal friends, who looked up at her attractive face dazed.

"I'll take the New York Steak, please. Stan?" Kyle asked gently, snapping the teen out of his trance.

"Just a coffee for me."

"Alright! I'll be back in a moment." The woman scratched the short order in her booklet and snapped it closed with a clean smile, before briskly stepping off to the kitchen.

An uncomfortable silence blanketed their cushioned stall as Kyle fumbled for words. "Stan, look… Um. Do you want to spend the night at my place? Or would… would you rather be alone?"

"I… I don't know yet. Ask me after we get this over with." Stan replied. "Either way… I think I'm going to skip tomorrow."

"For once, I think that's probably a good idea. In fact, I wouldn't mind skipping too." Kyle admitted, swirling his glass of water in front of him, watching as the ice spun around in a garbled confusion.

"We could go to the movies, or hang out at Stark's Pond, or just lay around and play video games all day drunk. Yeah, that sounds pretty good right now." Stan replied, a faint grin illuminating his face for a fleeting moment.

"Let's do it, then."

A small vibrating hummed in Stan's pocket. He pulled out his phone and saw that he had received a short text from his father.

_Here. Where are you?_

Quickly typing, Stan replied, _In a restaurant called Shari's w/ Kyle. We just ordered._

A few seconds later Randy responded. _Be there in a bit w/ Shelly._

"Dad and Shelly are going to be here soon." Stan informed Kyle dryly, looking up from his phone at his redheaded friend, who was eyeing the ghetto Shari's menu.

"Oh, good. Hey, did you know that every Wednesday is Free Pie Day? We need to come back here for free pie in the future!" Kyle smirked playfully, trying to distract Stan. He knew how hard this must be for him, and he wasn't about to let Stan shut down and shut him off like the time his parents split up. That was definitely a worst-case scenario.

"We haven't even tried their food yet, man. For all we know, their pie could taste like shit." Stan chuckled half-heartedly, rolling his eyes at him.

"Hey, still free! Kenny would flip out."

"Oh man, would he."

"Is it just me, or has he been spending a lot of time with Butters lately? For such a straight-forward guy, he sure hangs with some odd company. It's been forever since it was just us, him, and Cartman. Can't say I discourage avoiding fatty, but it feels wrong without calling up Kenny for binge video game weekends. I miss him sometimes." Kyle sighed, feeling as if his childhood was slipping through his fingertips.

Stan's eyes seemed to darken slightly. "Yeah. I… guess I miss him too. He's a good guy. But he's got his band now, and apparently Butters. Hopefully after this Spring thing blows over, he'll show his face more. But it's nice when it's just you and me too."

"Of course," Kyle reassured him quickly, thanking the waitress as she brought their orders. Shortly after the woman left them, Randy and Shelly Marsh swung open the doors and immediately spotted the two teens in their booth. Since there was a long waiting line, Randy waved at them obnoxiously, trying to get their attention, to which Kyle responded with a small, polite wave and Stan managed a grimace of pain.

When they were able to join the Kyle and Stan, Randy swung in the seat next to Kyle and Shelly rather reluctantly sat on the edge of the booth beside Stan after he moved his sports bag to the side to make room for her. Kyle didn't know why he had brought it with him since it seemed entirely unnecessary, but he didn't ask.

A word on Shelly Marsh. Over the years she, alongside her brother, managed to grow up considerably. With her face brace gone, and her hair neatly combed and cut, she looked quite nearly attractive. It was startling, and happened quite suddenly. Now she was going to the nearby University, and was living in a dorm there. Her temper had mellowed to the point where she wouldn't constantly harass her younger brother, yet she wasn't able to fully express love for him. She still found ways to verbally assault him without the repercussions, much to Stan's dismay, but they usually only happened sparingly.

This is why she was rather uncomfortable sitting beside him, but on such a day as this, she felt it would be highly inappropriate to voice her complaints. She was in mourning, after all, and so was her annoying little brother.

Now Randy Marsh, on the other hand, was in a much more complex place than his children at this point. He wasn't abusing substances like he normally would be. Oh no. His brain was abusive enough as it is. He was at times so dramatic over the little things that something as heavy as death was an unbelievable mind-fuck for him. He has had a rather bizarre life, but most of the people in his life have remained remarkably pretty stable. His very old father was, in fact, still clinging to life. So when Sharon died, something in him just _snapped._ He didn't cry once, didn't even mention her once unless absolutely necessary. It was like she was on a long vacation to him. With each day that passed, his children grew more and more disturbed and worried with his never-ending stage of utter denial. And unfortunately, it didn't seem like it was ending any time soon.

"Hey Stan. Has it rained over here yet? It's been getting really stormy over at South Park all day, but it doesn't seem like it's done much more than sprinkled here." Randy asked, flipping through the pie menu. "Free pie every Wednesday? Oh my God! Stan, did you know about this? Free pie Stan!"

"Yeah. I know." Stan replied, staring out the window moodily.

"What day is it today?"

"Thursday."

"God DAMN it!" Randy huffed, chucking the menu rather childishly away from their table. This was going to be a very long afternoon.

About thirty or so minutes later, a very annoyed Stan found himself side-by-side his dearest friend as he walked his family to his mother's final resting place. Moments such as these are meant to be nightmares for you to wake up from, not live out each day. Kyle had an arm around his shoulder as a gesture of goodwill, but Stan was quickly retreating within himself. As loath as he was to admit, he was rather like his father when it came to the heavy stuff. He pushed away and ignored his pain, writing it off and storing it away.

And it haunted him, crept up on him at the worst of times. And when he acted on his pain in an attempt to relieve it, he ended up regretting it. He had a lapse of judgement. And was reminded of it every single day.

"_Mom…" Stan sobbed, his body baring large areas of bruising and scattered cuts across his arms. A brace held his left leg tightly, the bone broken and useless. It was late at night- his first night home from the hospital. He had just awoken from a vivid dream recounting the accident. "I… can't. I can't take this…" _

_His left hand trembled, shaking with adrenaline and fear. Suddenly he sat up in a frenzy and reached desperately for his nightstand's drawer, ripping it open with a newly awoken strength. No matter what he did or thought, his mind would immediately resort to that day. The fear he felt as he watched his mother's torn body get carted off in an ambulance. The striking pain as he was told she didn't make it through the ride to Hell's Pass Hospital. The emptiness that consumed him after. It all swirled together, robbing him of hope, robbing him of life._

_Shaking violently, he grabbed a small silver exacto knife. He pressed his thumb against the cold metal catch, making up his mind. It felt like hours passed before he managed to slide the catch up, exposing the blade. He pulled down a portion of his pajama pants, and carefully slid his hand underneath the right side of his boxers. If he was going to do this, it would be in a place not often seen._

_With uncertain hands, he brought the knife to the soft flesh of his upper thigh, pressing it on his skin slowly. He screwed his eyes shut and conjured up his painful memories and self-destructive thoughts. He couldn't do this with a clear mind, that was for sure. After several seconds passed, he made a small, shy cut along his thigh. To his dismay, it did nothing but scratch at the surface. Enraged, he repeated the action, a little more forcefully. This time it turned a light pink. He hissed in anger and continued cutting up, down, back, forth… Until not only was he bleeding, he had a pattern going on, deep enough to scar._

_2/3/13_

Stan wasn't sure what he was supposed to do now. Randy seemed frozen in front of Sharon's grave, kneeling before it in apparent and very silent pain. Shelly was shuffling around uncomfortably as they watched their father break down mentally. A stream of unashamed sobs tore through the man's throat for the first time in exactly a year. His children stared in a stupor as their aloof, yet strangely strong father ripped himself apart. It was like watching a great and powerful wall, such as the Berlin Wall, tear down brick by brick. No child should see their parent resorted to such a level of misery.

"...Shelly, I'm going to go on a walk. Take care of Dad 'til I come back, alright? I need to clear… clear my head." She looked as if she was about to argue, but Stan just walked away regardless.

"Stan. hey. Wait up." Kyle called, running after him. "You wanna talk?"

"No." Stan muttered, kicking around a jagged stone as he led them along the path and up a grassy hill. "...Sorry. Sorry you had to see that… All of this. Just, thanks for being here."

Kyle turned to face him. "Of course, Stan. You're my best friend."

Stan abruptly sat down on the hill, to which Kyle promptly joined. The two sat there for a while before Stan finally moved. He grabbed his forgotten gym bag and pulled open the drawstrings to reveal four bottles of varied alcohol, looking to be whiskey, rum, vodka, and what seemed to be a bottle of red wine. Fancy. Without a word, Stan popped open the whiskey and took a swig before offering it to Kyle, who graciously accepted the offer. "It looks like it's going to rain soon."

Kyle raised the bottle to the air. "Cheers."

Some time passed, allowing the two to finish of the entire bottle before starting on the vodka. Their conversation took on a more dreamy, airy tone (if not a bit slurred). After polishing it off, Stan started to fumble with the top of the rum. Kyle looked over at his friend silently. It was amazing how strong Stan appeared to have grown over such a short amount of time. His dark hair was still short- at least, shorter than Kyle's- but it was slightly longer than it had been in the past, hitting at about the end of his ear. It was sleek and slightly askew in the wind, and Kyle entertained himself by watching the individual strands whip around violently. His face was longer than before, but not oddly so. His jawline was more clearly defined, having rid of his previous softer features he had when they were younger.

Kyle's eyes traveled down to the hem of Stan's black and blue striped long-sleeve shirt, which clung seductively to his chiseled muscles and defined his powerful form. Kyle's gaze then began to wander farther south on his friend's body and he took in the darkened gray jeans, which were ripped on one knee cap, allowing it to poke out almost entirely. Kyle remembered these pants. They had gotten that tear originally when he and Stan were jumping over Mr. Mackey's fence after they had egged his house brutally. A shimmer of a smile passed across Kyle's face at the memory.

It was undeniable that Stan's appearance today (or any day, really) was _good._ More than good, really. Kyle wanted nothing more than to rip off that attractive shirt of his and have his way with his best friend's body. But he didn't need reminding just how highly inappropriate that would be, especially given the occasion. Unfortunately, once Kyle's mind had reached the gutter, it was too late. He felt the beginnings of an erection coming on.

"Kyle? Are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that?" Stan asked, slightly put-off by Kyle's blazing stare. He had abandoned the bottle of alcohol in frustration- suddenly his hands weren't as controlled as they were before.

"What? Ah, no reason. You're right, though. It looks like it could pour on us at any minute. Do you wanna go inside somewhere and wait for… for... Randy?" Kyle offered, holding back a groan as he adjusted his position. This was _really _getting to be a problem. The alcohol had not helped him any there.

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go before it we get caught in the storm." Stan stood dizzily and offered his hand to Kyle, which he took graciously. Together the two teens proceeded to trek up and over the hill before making their way to the nearby road in a bit of a haze. From where they stood, the only places close enough to them was just a large cluster of houses. Regardless, the two began walking up the side of the quaint little road, figuring they'd come across a gas station or a diner eventually..

It seemed as if God himself tore apart the blackened clouds with his bare hands. All of a sudden, a loud crack was audible and seconds later buckets of rainwater fell from the heavens. It was spontaneous and surreal… And drenched the two unfortunate and rather cold teens to the bone.

"Shit! We've got to hurry!" Kyle exclaimed, picking up a quick, unsteady jog with Stan stumbling behind. Kyle took the time to grab Stan's hand before leading him further down the road in a drunken hustle. Several miserable moments later, they spotted an open shed.

"Quick! Get in there!" Stan shouted, and the two waded hurriedly to the open shack.

It was quite small and cluttered, so they had very little room, The harsh roar of the wind was managing to sneak in raindrops through the open door, pelting the two super best friends with icy beads.

"Close the damn door!" Kyle cried, and sighed in relief as Stan pulled the rickety wooden door to a close.

Only then, in the darkened light of the storage shed, did Kyle realize just how _close _the two of them actually were. There was barely enough space for him to sit in the place his was standing, let alone room for him to back away from Stan. If he reached out about five inches he'd be touching Stan's chest, for Christ's sake!

"Damn, there's not a lot of room in here." He grumbled, looking around at all the rakes and tools before him.

"Tell me about it. I think I might be able to step back if I-" Stan was cut off by a loud crash, causing Kyle to yelp in surprise. A series of large wooden planks smacked directly into Stan's side, knocking him over and directly onto Kyle's unsuspecting torso.

"Whoa... What the hell?!" Kyle exclaimed, flailing around helplessly. This could not be happening! Stan was going to feel a very strange poking in his chest if he couldn't find a way to move, fast!

"S-Sorry." Stan gasped. "I didn't... think that was going to happen. Can you move?"

"What do you think?! Can you?"

He struggled for several minutes before giving up in defeat. "Doesn't seem like it. Hey… What's…"

Kyle watched in pure horror as Stan's eyes widened in realization. "Uh, look, you were… you were moving around a lot! B-Be more careful next time or something…"

A devilish grin stitched its way onto Stan's face. "I gave you an accidental boner, huh?"

Kyle flushed with embarrassment. "L-Let's not talk about that…"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm GAY, dude! You didn't hear me the first time?!" Kyle snapped, before realizing how harsh that sounded. "Look, I'm sorry, Stan. For, um, the crappy timing of yesterday. I mean... I wanted to tell you later, and DEFINITELY in a better way. That was… pretty humiliating." Kyle chuckled nervously, craning his neck slightly so he could see Stan's reaction in the dim lighting.

That eerie grin of his hadn't left his face. "Well, can't say you didn't put up a good show."

A terrible thought occurred to Kyle. "Umm, so how… how long were you…" Kyle started, incapable of finishing his question and instead looked away over his shoulder, a telltale blush creeping across his features.

"A couple minutes or so. I was going to say something sooner, but… I don't know. I mean, you were so into it! And it's not like I haven't seen you naked before." Stan added, a little defensively, a blush similar to Kyle's creeping along his cheeks despite his cocky attitude. He wasn't one for secrets, but he was glad his closest friend hadn't seen him naked like that with his self-inflicted scars. Kyle would _freak._

"Stan! Jesus Christ, that's so embarrassing! You were just _watching _me like that?!" Kyle screeched, cutting through the thick sound of pattering raindrops.

"What can I say?" Stan's tone became teasing. "You were pretty sexy! I think anyone would've been aroused after a performance like that, regardless of gender."

Kyle's blood turned to ice. "You were _aroused?_ Man, don't joke with me like that!"

"... Who says I was joking?" Stan said quietly, looking over to analyze Kyle's reaction.

His eyes widened and a second passed before he maneuvered his arm to punch Stan's shoulder. "...You shouldn't get aroused by your super best friend, dude. Most best friends don't, I think."

"Really? Huh, that sounds pretty lame to me." Stan winked, before leaning in to Kyle's ear. "You know," He whispered huskily, "I think you're being a little hypocritical. Your erection is currently fucking my stomach. And…. as I recall, _you _were the one moaning _my_ name last night."

Kyle was entirely speechless. Stan _had _heard him, then! Shit. Shit. Shit shit shit shit!

"I-It's not what you think, Stan! Really! I know this looks pretty bad but really, I can explain! You must've heard me wrong last night!" Kyle exclaimed, panic rising in his voice.

"Oh really? If you weren't saying my name, then what _were _you saying?" Stan challenged, an unfamiliar edge to his tone.

"I.. was… babbling random stuff. I was in a bit of a blind stupor, after all." Kyle lied, hoping to God Stan would buy into this shit and let it go.

"So you're saying that you don't find me to be fuck-worthy? Kyle, I'm offended!" Stan pouted.

"What? N-No, I mean… Look, can we not talk about this? Maybe we could discuss this another time. Next week, maybe." Kyle deflected.

"I think we need to talk about this _now_." Stan persisted, managing to get both of his arms on top of Kyle's, effectively pinning him down. "Look, we can avoid this topic for forever and pretend like nothing happened, or we can cease the opportunity while it presents itself. I personally am getting tired of waiting for you to finally take a hint."

Kyle blinked in astonishment. "What do you mean?"

Stan sighed theatrically, allowing his stomach to barely rest against the other teen's as his elbows began to tire. "You really didn't notice, then? All those times we hung out together, talked together, _slept _together… Hell, just looking at you would usually give me a hard-on. It's been maddening ever since I discovered you last night."

A bright red stain flourished across Kyle's face. This… This couldn't be happening! _Stanley Marsh_ just admitted to being turned on by his super best friend? "Wh… Are you… Are you serious? Or are you pulling a classic Kenny Move on me right now?"

"How about I show you just how serious I am?" Stan breathed darkly, that playfully confident smirk remaining on his face. To Kyle's surprise, he released his arms and moved backwards as far as he could, managing to pin down Kyle's hips instead. It looked like it was terribly difficult to do, but Stan was able to use his strength and pull it off, proving to Kyle that he hadn't fully been trying to get free before.

Curiously, Kyle watched what his drunken friend would attempt to do next… And he yelped in surprise as he saw Stan reach for his belt. He knew he shouldn't let his super best friend continue… But what could he say? He was drunk too after all, and he had been fantasizing about Stan for… damn, ever since fifth grade when Stan and Wendy had their first major 'break-up'.

So he held his tongue and instead watched what his friend would do next.

Stan's hands fumbled with the latch on Kyle's belt, releasing it with a satisfying _click._ His fingers ghosted over his zipper before delicately undoing it and unlatching Kyle's button. He looked up at the said redhead and grinned before knotting his fingers into the jean fabric and pulling it down with quite a bit of difficulty. Kyle gasped as his skin was exposed to the cool, breezy air.

The only thing standing in Stan's way now was the flimsy green and black plaid boxers Kyle still had on. Sensually, he brought his hands to Kyle's bulge and teased him, cupping his length and rubbing him against the fabric.

"Ngh.." Kyle whimpered, feeling his arousal grow into an enormous erection as Stan caressed him devilishly. Kyle wasn't used to not being in control like this, and he had never gotten this intimate with… well, _anyone._ This was new territory for him, which was something his drunken horny mind could barely process and couldn't say no to.

"Stan," Kyle pleaded, voice catching. "Please… Don't-Don't tease me like this…"

Stan's dark blue eyes flickered up to him, a hunger flaring within their depths. "You're so impatient, Kyle. Let me have my fun."

And there was no way for Kyle to protest as he saw Stan sink further down onto him, His lips resting on his groin, still hidden beneath boxers (which were quickly beginning to dampen from precum, much to Kyle's embarrassment). He felt Stan's mouth part and engulf the clothed shaft teasingly, his hands smoothly joining in to feel up his super best friend once again.

Kyle could barely take such foreplay, and impatiently rolled his hips suggestively, letting a small moan escape in the process. Stan chuckled softly against his member as he stilled Kyle's hips by pressing his palms down over them. Finally, and ever so slowly, Stan's mouth separated from him, travelling up to the elastic band holding Kyle's boxers. He stilled, exchanging a mischievous smile with a very aroused Kyle before leaning down to grip the band with his teeth. An excruciating process followed, in which Stan slowly and cleanly pulled down his boxers, revealing Kyle's throbbing, needy cock. Kyle let out a shaky breath at the exposure, feeling the cold air stimulate him further.

Torturously, Stan leaned in, giving the head a faint experimental lick and earned a wanton groan from Kyle. "Stan, I swear to _God…_"

Another heated chuckle escaped Stan lips as he licked the tip again, before finally allowing it into his mouth. He swirled it around, getting used to the unfamiliar feeling of another man's dick inside of his mouth.

Kyle couldn't help himself; his bucked up into Stan's mouth, surprising him, before he could get a handle on himself. "S-Sorry…"

He hummed in response, enjoying the feeling of Kyle squirm from the resulting vibrations. Carefully, he began to bob his head up and down, taking in more of the length with each actions. Kyle could feel his lips part into a grin as Stan heard him wail in response, begging him to go faster, to take in more of him.

"Oh… h-holy _fuck…_" He whispered, biting his lower lip to hold in a shuddering gasp. This was too much. Stan was beginning to swallow around his cock, taking in the heady precum like a pro. At this rate, Kyle wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"Stan… I'm going to.." Kyle cried, moaning as his super best friend began playing with his balls. Suddenly, he paused.

"No you're not." Stan purred, parting from Kyle's throbbing member before snaking his hands up Kyle's shirt. He bent down yet again, this time to nip and suck at Kyle's hip bones sensually, leaving trails of angry red marks.

"Wh-What?" Kyle choked out, eyes widening in disbelief. He wouldn't really leave him like that, right?

"You heard me. I'll only make you come when _I _want you to." Stan insisted, looking up at Kyle mischievously.

"St-Stan… You asshole…" Kyle stuttered, distracted by the painful twitches coming from his cock.

"Beg." Stan demanded, his drunken brain enjoying his friend's humiliation slightly more than it should've.

Kyle sighed in irritation. So _that's _how he was going to be. "Fine. Stan… Ugh, no. I c-can't do it…"

Stan merely blinked at him, waiting patiently with a self-satisfied grin. "Come on, you can. Do you need more convincing?"

A hand travelled up the length of Kyle's shaft. "Aghh! St-Stan… please let me… please let me come…"

Pleased, Stan took in the sight of Kyle's flushed face turning even redder than before. He leaned back down, face to Kyle's dick, before resuming his previous actions. His lips were turning dark and were wet with saliva as he engulfed Kyle, a hand grasping the length that wasn't in his mouth and pumping in time with his movements.

A sharp intake of breath and a cry escaped Kyle as explosions rippled through his body, and the Earth seemed to stutter on its axis as he let out his orgasm. The hot liquid pooled in Stan's mouth, and he choked slightly before deciding to swallow it. He struggled to take in all of the sperm before any of it managed to escape, and after he got a handle on it he milked out the rest of Kyle's orgasm until the redhead was fully spent.

"Holy shit, that was hot." Kyle gasped, rolling over on his side in exhaustion. Suddenly, a guilt overtook him. "Don't suppose there's any way I could get you off in this position, is there?"

Stan's cheeks were, indeed, a telltale red. "It doesn't seem so. I… yeah, it's pretty bad. Maybe if we drink that wine, I'll pass out before I get blue balls."

Butters carefully slid off his light blue converse and placed them inside of his closet, lining up the toes neatly before removing his matching soft blue jacket and hanging it up. He slid the closet door shut, which outer surface held a full length mirror. His kind cheery blue eyes shone up at him brightly, a glimmer of innocence shining. Pulling his white shirt (as opposed to a t-shirt. He wasn't allowed to wear something as sloppy as t-shirts. Only button-ups for him.) over his head, he secretly admired the leaner muscles he had developed in his time at high school. They lined his body attractively, while still allowing him to look skinny enough. He took a moment to fix his silken ruffled hair, which was a lot more unruly than he would've preferred. Butters found that the 'messy hair' look was better on rougher, tougher people like Kenny. Kenny was a… _badass._

Butters allowed his mind to travel as he pictured his friend. Kenny had the most amazing dirty blonde hair that, sure, was a little shaggy, but Butters liked it that way. It suited him. Kenny had harder features than Butters; more defined cheekbones, a stronger jaw… Even his eyes were more feral than Butters, bearing deeper, darker blue fragments within them. Butters was pretty skinny, but Ken was a _lot _more so than he. Butters recalled from seeing him dress in the locker room that he had no body fat whatsoever, and seemed to be composed entirely of tightly strung muscle. While he wasn't allowed to wear t-shirts, Kenny seemed to always have on a black or orange t-shirt of some sort, reminding Butters of Halloween. He had a slimmed pair of paint-splattered jeans that were ripped to heck he wore almost everyday, and Butters had to admit, he had a rather nice behind in them. Kenny also wore a pair of dirty black boots that he lovingly told Butters were his "shit-stomping boots". Kenny was the kinda guy who wouldn't take heck from nobody, and Butters really liked that.

In fact, ever since his feelings for the other blonde cultivated in Hawaii, he would go so far as to say that he _loved _that. Kenny was more than a secret crush to Butters. He was someone irreplaceable, unwavering.

As thoughts of Kenny clouded his head, he made his way over to the other side of his closet, sliding open the door and quietly kneeling. He felt the side of his closet before finding a place to dig his nails in underneath a panel of wood, popping it open in the process. He reached into the small crevice, feeling around through his hidden clothing before his fingertips hit something hard. He grabbed the yellow notebook and brought it out from its hiding place.

He stood and grabbed a black pen, setting it down next to him before opening the worn book to the next fresh page. He paused before backtracking, feeling the urge to skim through his past entries.

_7/4/13_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today is the Fourth of July! I was supposed to go to Cartman's party today, but at the last minute he told me that I couldn't come. Darn. I was really wanting to see Kenny today! But I don't really know if he was going to be there anyway. Maybe I'll just go to Stark's Pond and watch the fireworks from there._

_Kenny was there! At Stark's Pond! I got there just a little before him and waited a while for it to get dark. Right when the fireworks were starting up, Kenny showed up with his little sister, Karen. She was crying about somethin', and Kenny held her and they watched the fireworks together. It was mighty sweet to see, and made me feel both happy and lonely at the same time. _

Butters stopped reading, disinterested, before flipping to a later date.

_4/11/13_

_Dear Diary,_

_Today, my therapist told me that he, for sure, wouldn't say anything to my parents that I didn't want him to, so I told him about her. I had no idea how sore she was making me 'til I finally mentioned her to somebody. I told him about what she'd do at night, and how she'd put me in all of these embarrassing situations. I'm so tired of her. How am I supposed to get rid of her? He didn't really tell me how, he just said that she was something I made to get out of my own head for a while. He said that maybe I wish that I was somebody else entirely, like her._

_**I feel so mad. Nothing I do is good enough for them, for me. I don't have any way of fixing things anymore. I can never keep anything or anyone. They always betray me in the end. How do I even know Kenny won't do that someday? He's a nice guy and all, but in the end nothing lasts. No one lasts long. Sometimes, I just wish-**_

Butters flipped quickly to the end once again, realizing why he never reads what he writes. With a shaking hand, he began filling out the events of his day.

* * *

So, What did you think? ;) Let me know by reviewing, favoriting, and the like! If this chapter gets more than, let's say, 2 reviews, I'll upload another chapter before Sunday. Next week might be a little slow for me, since I'm going out of town for my birthday for several days with family and friends. Thanks for reading~ 3

(Something you might find interesting: I'm basing Butters' character in this story heavily on the interpretation presented with the little girl dancing in the music video 'Chandelier' by Sia. Despite the accidental sexual interpretation of the girl's leotard, it truly is a beautiful video. xD)


	7. The Madness Of Mr Stotch

**Chapter 7-The Madness of Mr. Stotch**

The name of this chapter was inspired by 'The Madness of Duke Venomania' which is a VOCALOiD song. The other songs mentioned here: 'Sally's Song' again by Amy Lee and 'Can't Live Without You', which is a Fit For Rivals' song. I own neither, nor do I own South Park. ('Sexting' by Blood On The Dance Floor is referred to as well) Sorry this chapter didn't appear sooner! While it was all polished and ready to go, my internet and overall electricity freaked the fuck out, causing a large delay and a lot of irritation. I also finally purchased The Stick Of Truth... So I was a little off task. _ Sorry guys! Anyways, without further ado~

"Hold still, okay?"

"I'm tr-trying!"

"Well, try harder."

"Ngh…"

"Your face is going to come out all crooked." Kenny warned, looking up from his work and quirking an eyebrow as Butters tightened his fists in concentration.

"I-I won't move an inch, I swear!" Butters insisted as his resolve hardened.

Kenny gave him a quiet appreciative smile before continuing to pencil in Butters' concerned left eye. He loved making portraits of people, especially interesting looking people. The only others he had drawn was his sister Karen and her closest friend, Ruby Tucker. It had been a sunny interpretation of a photo Karen had of the two of them; she had her arm thrown around her friend's shoulder and was in the middle of a jubilant laugh as Ruby thrusted her hand up to make a peace sign. It was endearing, and Kenny was honored when Karen had asked that he recreate it for Ruby's birthday present.

While the two of them both had interesting enough facial features and it was an enjoyable experience translating them on to paper (and there was a certain sense of pride in drawing one's own relative), it was like nothing compared to drawing Butters. Butters had such a definite character. He had a very flattering round face that portrayed a very rare softer look to him that Kenny had never seen anywhere else. He had such an overwhelming sense of purity, happiness, good-heartedness…

Kenny was getting distracted. Instead of thinking of portraying Butters' personality, he chose to focus more on the finer details of his appearance. The shape of the face was done. The bigger, kinder eyes, the defined but not _too_ defined eyelashes- done as well. The smaller curved nose had been finished almost immediately. What Kenny was really struggling with was whether or not he should define his cheeks more. He didn't want his friend to look permanently embarrassed, after all. But there was undeniable color there. Perhaps he would avoid the cheek area for now and focus more on the eyebrows and forehead. Butters had a nice forehead. It wasn't too big or too little. It was just right. Oops. Now it was slightly sideways. Shit. Maybe he could cover it up with some bangs or something. He wasn't in the mood to be erasing anything. Kenny knew if he started to erase stuff, it'd all soon be gone. Funny how these things worked.

He moved the graphite pencil down to where Butters' mouth would be, estimating the distance from the nose and the symmetrical placement. He traced the most dominant line for the lower lip, making sure his lines were light and forgiving. Butters also had a wonderfully shaped mouth. It wasn't very full, but it was definitely more than just a tight line across his face. Kenny recalled their kiss and how Butters' lips just melted into his. He decided that his shape of mouth was one of his favorites. He traced some shading underneath his lips, careful not to make it look like a goatee. Kenny also noted Butters' very carefully clean-shaven appearance. That was something he was actually rather jealous of. He _hated_ facial hair passionately- it took a really good face to pull it off correctly in his eyes. Unfortunately he wasn't always able to claim their shitty bathroom each morning, so sometimes he'd have to show up to school with a five o'clock shadow, effectively lowering his daily self-esteem and causing him to hide his face as subtly as he could. It sucked.

Gently, with a practiced hand, he traced down from Butters' jaw creating a long delicate neck. He filled in the lines and nick-picked over the details before continuing down to Butters' clothing. He began on Butters' clean white button-up shirt that bore a small-lined dark blue plaid design. It fit his frame well and made him look quite attractive (which had been hard for everyone to get used to. It was hard not to imagine Butters as the cute little defenseless boy he used to be), causing Kenny to feel just that more invested in his portrait's accuracy. He wanted Butters to see what he saw when he looked at him. He then went on to capture Butters' hands and arms, making sure to include the paint dried and stained on his skin here and there. As he began on the left hand, he a peculiar detail he had never noticed before stuck out to him.

"What's that?" Kenny asked, gesturing with the end of his pencil.

"Oh, this? W-Well, it's a charm! It's called the Evil Eye Charm. M-My cousin told me that in Turkey and Egypt they put these everywhere to ward off jealousy and ill-intent. I figured… since I mess up so much and all… I should keep one on me for good luck." Butters explained, fiddling with the small leather band holding the blue stone eye in place.

"I never figured you were the superstitious type. But oddly enough, it kind of suits you." Kenny grinned, taking a moment to sharpen his pencil.

"Oh boy, am I! I love believing in that kinda stuff. I've got lots of charms too. I even carry around rabbit's feet and exploding acorns, just in case!" Butters laughed, knowing how silly it all was.

"I've heard of rabbit's feet, but… exploding acorns?" Kenny asked skeptically, brandishing his pencil yet again.

"Yeah, they're a little more o-obscure. Here, look." He pulled out a little solid metal acorn from his pocket. It looked like a Monopoly player piece or something. "If you have one of these on you, it's supposed to prevent you from exploding. Well, according to my cousin, who hands these out like candy."

Kenny eyes widened at the irony. He just had to. Even though he hadn't died ever since he had disposed of his orange hoodie. "Seriously? You… You wouldn't happen to have a spare on you, would you?"

"S-Sure I do! Here!" Butters gave him the small acorn, an odd smile on his face. Kenny reddened slightly as Butters' soft hand brushed against his. He felt like such a tween girl, butterflies present and all. It was so overrated, it wasn't even worth properly mentioning. The acorn rested in his palm hotly before he carefully tucked it into a crevice in his old leather wallet, noticing Butters secret smirk of satisfaction.

Kenny returned to his drawing, filling out the finer details of Butters' attire before jumping back up to finish his cheek structure. He skimmed over the finished product, correcting minuscule mistakes here and there before sitting back contently.

"I think you're done."

"Oh boy, really? Let me see!" Butters exclaimed excitedly, rushing over to Kenny's side before letting out a shocked gasp.

"This… This is amazing Kenny. I don't even know what to say!" Butters said softly. "I-I don't look like that, though. Do I?"

"You do to me."

Oh. Fuck. Clique one-liners aside, he probably should've kept that to himself. A startled silence consumed them greedily.

"Whoa, you did a really awesome job on this, Kenny!" The two teens jumped, startled by the sudden appearance of their art teacher, Mrs. Johnson. She was in her mid-thirties and had kind blue eyes with wavy light-brown hair. Her laid-back lifestyle and passion for art made her both relatable and likable, despite her possible bouts of anger. She had just given birth to her first child, after all, so that was at least understandable. Despite that, she was easily both Kenny and Butters' most favorite teacher.

"Ah, thanks Mrs. Johnson." Kenny grinned, pushing aside the awkwardness from before. He'd just have to smooth that over and not worry about it.

"This is seriously fantastic though. The annual Art Display is getting put up in the City Hall this next month. You should really consider submitting this and whatever else you want. Same goes for you Butters. We need to really impress South Park if our art fundings are going to increase any. Your paintings are beautiful- it'd be great if both you and Kenny submitted some pieces." Mrs. Johnson winked.

"W-Wow, gosh. That means a lot c-coming from you. Thanks Mrs. Johnson." Butters stammered.

Mrs. Johnson looked as if she were going to shrug off his gratitude, unfortunately, Kenny's ringtone interrupted her.

_Sext, sext, sext me! Sext, sext, sext, me!_

Oh, fuck!

_Show me what ya got on my LCD_

_Let's get down to it, so you can get down on me!_

_Cybering is so 1999!_

_You've got to be textually active_

_If you wanna be mine!_

_'Cause..._

_I wanna fuck you hard!_

_I wanna feel you deep!_

_I wanna rock your body!_

_I wanna taste-_

"Kenny, seriously?" Mrs. Johnson sighed theatrically. "Turn that thing on silent already." Before she received a response, she flitted back to her craft table rolling her eyes to work on grading one of Red's mixed media projects.

"W-Wow, that sounds pretty great!" Butters exclaimed a little hastily, still partially distracted by Kenny's previous statement. "T-The art thing I mean. Not…" He turned scarlet.

"Um… Yeah. You should submit that self-portrait you started a couple days ago. It's turning out pretty nicely." Kenny warily offered, turning off his phone before his humiliating ringtone could go off again. The phone was very worn, to the point where the volume button just wouldn't work anymore. There was one volume, and it was quite audible to everyone present..

"Y-You think so?" He looked away, surprised to be receiving such praise from both Kenny and his art teacher.

"Yeah, man. You're too hard on yourself." Kenny chuckled, tucking away his portrait of Butters neatly for Mrs. Johnson to grade.

Lunch was surreal to Kenny. He was sitting with Butters again, but this time both Stan and Kyle were mysteriously absent, Leaving behind a huge empty gap in front of the two blondes.

"Hey guys. Where's Stan and Kyle?" Token asked, approaching the two with a lunch tray. Clyde was trailing behind him juggling his tray which teemed with Chinese food and several drinks. The school's food was supplied by the nearby City Wok, which now seemed to specialize in nearly every Asian cuisine. Despite its general great taste, the food was filled with sodium.

"I don't know. I've texted them several times, but they haven't responded. I'm starting to get a little worried." Kenny replied distractedly, sharing a concerned look with Butters. Everyone knew about what happened to Stan's mom- these things aren't really much of a secret here in South Park.

"They're probably just skipping to play video games or something. That's what I'd be doing." Clyde commented, sliding into the seat in front of Butters. "You guys should seriously try some of these potstickers- they're delicious. I've never had anything like them before! They're like little magical sacks of meat!"

"Really? I would've figured you of all people would be experienced in eating meat sacks." A voice drawled sarcastically and Craig walked up to his friends in apparent disdain. He seemed slightly peeved that his "Gang" had decided to keep Kenny and Butters company without asking him first. Butters liked Craig well enough, but he knew of the dark-haired boy's rivalry with Stan and Cartman. Kenny had more or less forged a stable friendship with him, and he seemed rather indifferent about Kyle.

He was holding a tray similar to Clyde's- with fewer potstickers and a neater array of food. His dark hair wasn't hidden under a cap anymore, but he wore a dark blue scarf that concealed his entire neck and a good portion of his chin. His clothing had slowly become increasingly edgy, varying from ripped sleeveless shirts to rather impractical leather jackets and torn dark grey jeans. For his fourteenth birthday he had gotten his lip pierced twice so he could have 'snake bites'. Kenny personally would've rather had a tattoo instead of piercings, but he had to admit that they suited Craig well.

He ran his fingers through his hair before gesturing to the twitchy blonde walking up behind him. Together the two sat down across from Kenny and Token, who decided to sit beside him in a moment's hesitation.

"So, since when did you two get so close? Last time I recall, Butters was still babying Cartman." Craig continued, casting a curious glance Butters' way.

"No one deserves to be around that fat piece of shit for that long. I decided to come to his rescue." Kenny cut in quickly, sensing Butters' uncertainty of the answer to that question himself.

"How cute." Craig smirked, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "Hey, I heard your band's performing next Saturday at Stark's Pond. Are you taking requests?"

"Basically. What do you want us to play?" Kenny asked, stabbing a potsticker off of Clyde's paper plate.

To his surprise, Craig seemed to turn a little red. Was he actually _embarrassed _by something?

"Walk with me." It wasn't a question. Kenny thought about denying him; he didn't really feel comfortable leaving Butters alone, even though he was pretty good friends with Token and Clyde. In the end, his curiosity got the better of him and he complied.

"What's this about Craig?" Kenny asked, pacing with him so that they were a good distance away from their group of friends.

"I would like to know if you'd dedicate a song to Tweek and I." Craig declared in a nearly perfect monotone, with only a slight tremor of anxiety in his voice.

"Wait. You and Tweek are…?" Kenny inquired slowly, eyes beginning to widen in surprise.

"We're a thing. Yeah. And if you say anything about it to _anyone_, I'll publicly castrate you."

"Ha!"

"Don't laugh, asshole."

"Sorry, it's just… For how long?!"

"Three months or so. We're keeping it on the down low. Because this town has a stick up its ass when it comes to gay relationships." Craig stated bluntly, giving Kenny an almost challenging look. "It'd be _catastrophic_ if Cartman heard of this. Tell him and kiss your balls goodbye."

"Don't worry about that." Kenny reassured him. "Cartman and I haven't been on speaking terms in a while. In fact, Stan, Kyle, and I kind of kicked him out of our group several weeks ago. He had pissed me off several days before that, and then he made some nasty remarks about Stan's mom. One thing led to another, and the only person he had left was Butters. Now," Kenny looked over at his blonde friend. "He doesn't even have that. He's nothing without other people to use up like tissues. So no, I'm not telling him shit."

Craig blinked, displaying the most shock Kenny had ever seen capable on his face. "Wow. Finally you guys are growing up a little. I'm impressed."

Kenny smirked. "So what song do you want dedicated then? I assume this should be anonymous, right?"

"Yeah. I was thinking of 'Can't Live Without You'. Would that be alright?"

Kenny smiled to himself. He had forgotten about that song. Considering the lyrics, he had to admit that it seemed just so… Craig.

"Of course, man. Easy." Kenny and Craig headed back to the table, where Butters was laughing at something Clyde had said.

"Hey, Ken! So I was thinking that maybe after your concert thing everyone could come over to my house for a party. My parents are conveniently out of town since my dad has to bail out this major client over in Utah. Sound good to you?" Token asked.

"Yeah, that's fine by me. I need more excuses to drink anyway." Kenny laughed retaking his seat by Butters. Feeling light-hearted, he snaked an arm around Butters' waist and gave him his best 'seductive' look. "Will I be seeing you there too, sexy?"

Butters couldn't prevent the small giggle that followed. "Well, when you say it like _that…_ I'll see what I can do."

Cartman had blown it. He had utterly, entirely blown it. He should've anticipated Kyle's butt-hurt reaction after he started flinging insults about Stan's mom. He should've expected Kyle to attack anything-or anyone- that tried to touch his little fragile, perfect Stanley Shittin' Marsh. But he hadn't. He let his immediate impulses outweigh the overall goal he was trying to accomplish: to have Kyle all to himself. Well, if he were being ENTIRELY truthful, he wanted everyone to himself. He wanted everyone to want him. Except for Stan.

He had turned from their little anal squad, leaving in utter disgrace. The only person left was Butters. Him and Butters against the world. It was a God-awful concept at first, but he thoroughly enjoyed setting up the little teen for failure. He invaded his privacy by going through his drawers at night, discovering his super gay romance for a certain blonde whore. In addition, he would drop in on Butters unexpectedly, bringing problems with him right as he stepped through the door. And one day, he managed to drop in on Butters at the most inconvenient time possible.

He knew way too much about that sick freak. And it ensured Butters' loyalty to him until the end of time.

That's why when Butters started straying from his side, he felt incredibly peeved. What an audacity he had! Actually thinking he could live out his fantasies and ditch Cartman like Kyle had! This would definitely have to be corrected, but all in good time. Cartman had to think through this entire situation very carefully if he was going to get everything he wanted with as little effort as possible. This was the opening he had been waiting ever so patiently for, he was sure of it.

The car ride to the South Park graveyard was making Butters nervous. He didn't like graveyards, especially not this one.

"Don't be a baby." Henrietta drawled. "This is entirely necessary."

"B-But why?" Butters asked, squeezing his eyes shut as Michael's jeep began to approach the ominous headstones.

"It's tradition. Every band member, no matter how minimal of a spot they have, must be present for the summoning. And it must be done in a graveyard sometime during the week before the performance. Otherwise, the gig will go to hell." Henrietta explained impatiently, flicking ash from her cigarette.

"I think it's pointless." Kenny cut in, casting a smirk to Butters in an attempt to reassure him. "He never says much, aside from pointing out how big of losers we are for summoning him in the first place. But, oddly enough, it seems to boost morale. If at all possible."

"Ha ha." Henrietta spat, glaring at Kenny venomously. "Sure, he's a major douchebag, but he only fuels our pain and need to inflict it on the conformists. This is relevant, trust me."

The car leapt into a parking lot, and the odd little group consisting of four goths, two McCormicks, and a Butters stumbled out comically before they all began the long trek into the heart of the cemetery.

Butters bit his lip and clenched his fists nervously, shaking slightly. Kenny must've noticed, because seconds later he felt a warm hand brush against one of his fists, causing him to relax it just enough for Kenny's hand to take his. Butters smiled over to him, thankful for the encouragement. He failed to notice Karen's giggle.

They trekked a little further. "Oh, look. There's some of my graves." Kenny spoke up, gesturing at the line of KENNY MCCORMMICKs. Butters felt him stop suddenly. "I didn't know your grave was right next to one of mine."

"Wait, really?" Butters peered over at the grave made for him after he had 'committed suicide'. Sure enough, a Kenny grave had popped up next to his, probably due to the limited space left. Half of the cemetery was composed of Kenny's multiple dead bodies, and while no one seemed to remember his deaths, they believed it when he insisted they truly happened. After all, why else would there be so many tombstones with his name on them?

"Yeah. Good thing I haven't died as much lately. This graveyard can't take much more of it." Kenny commented rather dryly, looking around with a strange trickle of guilt.

Firkle interrupted. "We can have the summoning by your graves if you want. Even if yours is really a dead mutilated pig." He snorted humorously at Butters. "Maybe he'll appreciate the change of scenery."

"As if."

Regardless, the group sat in a half-circle around Kenny and Butters' graves. "This is oddly romantic." Henrietta commented with a serious face.

"Shut up." Kenny laughed, watching Butters flush. It took the smaller blonde a moment to notice that Kenny hadn't let go of his hand yet. Probably because the scary part was going to happen pretty soon.

"Here's the candles and books." Michael spoke up, carrying a large cardboard box in his arms. "Pete, do you have the picture?"

"Naturally."

Together, the two goth teens set up the seance supplies, lighting the crimson red candles with their the books and picture.

Henrietta's voice rang out, piercing through the fog. "Edgar Allan Poe! We summon you from the depths of your all-consuming despair! Come before us!"

Butters whimpered and clenched Kenny's hand in a vice-grip, making the sign of the cross with his free hand, not caring that it was his left. Kenny whispered something reassuring to him right before the sickly ghost of Poe appeared before them.

"Ugh, why'd you have to summon me on top of a dead pig? Was that _really _necessary?" Poe complained, shooting a death glare at Pete and Michael.

"Sorry."

"So, what's happening now? Another faggy performance next week or something?"

Henrietta rolled her eyes. "You know it, loser."

"I've been keeping an eye on you posers out of curiosity and morbid amusement. To my sublime despair, it'd seem you're not as dreadful as I thought you were. But you're far from good. You need to find a more believable way of translating your pain through your lyrics. Put more raw emotion into it. Let the audience know just how much they disappoint you. Focus on that above all else. You want them to think, "Whoa. That really blew my mind out. I never knew how much of a huge disgrace I am to my family's name." That's your main goal. Don't let that be lost in translation. Now I gotta go. Looking at your idiotic faces makes me want to die again." Poe's figure trembled before dissolving entirely.

"Well, that took longer than usual." Karen said, chuckling at her friends' expressions. It was rare for them to ever get anything more than a simple "Fuck you for bringing me here" from the morbid man. Today HAD been inspirational. For the four goths, at least. Butters felt like he had just been slapped in the face repeatedly.

Later that night after he and everyone else had been dropped off back at their houses, Kenny decided that he wanted to get shit-faced. He usually felt like that after talking to Poe, and tonight was no exception. With that in mind, he made his way over to Skeeter's Bar, which was all the way at the other corner of town. Kenny didn't really mind. He liked walking, especially at night. Sure, it killed him on occasion, but he still enjoyed the cool crisp air and silence that the Witching Hour promised him. It was beautiful and slightly surreal to him. He passed by the railroad tracks and padded up the empty streets of South Park, entirely alone.

Well, almost alone. It would seem that tonight he had someone shadowing him. He paused to cross the street before him, casting a glance towards the person following behind him silently. He couldn't fully make them out.

A small sense of alarm took a hold of him, but he brushed it off. Kenny knew how to fight, and since he was immortal, he had little reason to be worried. Instead, he just continued walking the rest of the long path to Skeeter's.

Kenny didn't realize that the Bartender wasn't supposed to be serving him alcohol until he got into freshman year- it was that normal for him. Luckily, the rules on underaged drinking seemed almost non existent here in South Park- even Officer Barbrady threw back shots with Kenny and his brother Kevin on the weekends.

Kenny finally could spot the lights from Skeeter's, but before he could enter, he heard a startled yelp. It seemed to have come from his shadow.

He turned to face them, and saw that it was a girl. A teenager, from the looks of it. She had tripped over her heel and was bent over in an attempt to stand. He approached her, guard lowering considerably. He hadn't noticed just how tense he was until then. The girl finally noticed him coming towards her, and she looked up.

Kenny had never seen her before, yet she looked so familiar. Perhaps he had seen her somewhere around school after all. Her hair was a pale blonde, framing her face attractively. Her dress was a light green and clung to her body attractively, despite having little to no breasts to speak of. Her eyes were a sparkling blue, glittering softly in the dim light. Her neck was milky and elegant. Kenny was, overall, quite attracted to the small person before him.

"Are you okay?" He asked her kindly, kneeling to examine her knee, which seemed to be pretty badly scraped up.

"Yeah. I just tripped a little. I'll be back to normal once I've had a few drinks." She laughed in a light, excited manner, as if the prospect of consuming some alcohol was a thrilling adventure.

Kenny grinned, intrigued with this person before him, and offered her his hand, which she took easily and flew up into the air with a fluid, practiced movement. "I don't think I've seen you around before. Have we met?"

"Not officially, but I know who you are. You're Kenny McCormick! And hopefully-" She tittered childishly "-You'll be the one drinking with me." She held open the door for him good-naturedly. "Care to join me?"

Kenny's mind leapt to Butters, who was probably fast asleep at home by now. "Sure. Drinking alone isn't much fun, after all." He felt a little dirty with guilt.

As he entered the bar, the world seemed to spin away in a haze. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered was the drinks in his hand and how loudly he could make this strange girl laugh. She was clearly having a blast watching Kenny make a total fool of himself left and right.

"You should get up there." He stated, jabbing a thumb up at the karaoke machine. "And sing a really awesome song. Then my night would be complete."

"Oh really?" She giggled, tipping back another shot of… whatever that was. That giggle was _so_ familiar. Kenny had to of heard it somewhere before. "How can I resist when you put it like that?"

She stood abruptly, winking at Kenny before making her way to the small stage. She fiddled with the controls, selecting her song in a very careless, confident manner. The music began.

_I sense there's something in the wind_

_That feels like tragedy's at hand_

_And though I'd like to stand by him_

_Can't shake this feeling that I have_

_The worst is just around the bend_

_And does he notice my feelings for him?_

_And will he see how much he means to me?_

_I think it's not to be_

_What will become of my dear friend_

_Where will his actions lead us then?_

_Although I'd like to join the crowd in their enthusiastic cloud_

_Try as I may, it doesn't last_

_And will we ever end up together?_

_And will we ever end up together?_

_No, I think not, it's never to become_

_For I am not the one._

Kenny, as well as everyone else in the bar, was entirely floored, and clapping drunkenly by the end of her song. She received an enthusiastic anchor, but she brushed it off and made her way back to Kenny, who was still seated at one of the bar stools.

She gave him a cute, lip glossy smile. "I think this is the part where you're supposed to kiss me."

Kenny couldn't. Even shit-faced, he couldn't do it. "I have feelings for someone else."

"I something tells me he won't mind too much." The pretty blonde girl insisted, inching closer to him.

Wait. _Him?_

Suddenly, everyone seemed to snap back into focus. A wave of clarity, of recognition, swept Kenny away like the tide of the ocean. That round face, those soft blue eyes, those thin yet not TOO thin lips, that small band of leather on her wrist he hadn't noticed before…

"Butters?"

**Elsewhere at a later time…**

Stan awoke at promptly 2:00 AM. It was sunny and motionless out, as if he were inside of a bright photograph from one of his mother's scrapbooks. It would've been pleasant too, if it weren't for his crushing headache from a massive hangover and the drowsy effects of sleeping in too late. Why on God's green Earth had he been drinking again? He hated hangovers with a passion.

He laid there disoriented a while before it sunk in that this wasn't his bed. His bed had a warm red comforter and dark blue sheets covered in plaid. This bed felt too flimsy. Too sterile. He cracked open his bleary eyes just enough to see that the sheets were void of color entirely. A blank emotionless white. Yep, this was definitely not his bed. A quick scan around the room informed him that this truly was _not _his room, but a hotel's. He had paid for a hotel room? Why?

Stan shifted slightly in a confused manner, which caused him to notice that the fabric running across his junk was NOT his boxers, but the sheets themselves. He realized was very much naked. Looking across to his right, he also realized that he was also very much with Kyle.

Oh. Oh _no._ What the FUCK had happened last night? What did they do?! He paused, letting the full weight of the situation hit him. Had Kyle seen…? He slid out of the sheets quickly and carefully, noticing that their clothing had been flung around carelessly. He picked up his boxers resting on the corner of the microwave and put them on hastily. He let out a sharp hiss as he stepped on something sharp. Upon closer inspection, he realized that in their fit of drunken… horniness(?) they had managed to break a lamp. And flip a table. And a chair was turned over. And- Christ, what the _hell_ happened?!

Stan's mind snapped back to the more immediate issue. He decided that, if by some miracle Kyle recalled the scarring on his thigh, he would deny it and write it off as a drunken dream of some sort.

He thought about cleaning up before Kyle woke up, but looking at the massive wreck they had created was making his head spin, and he decided that instead he would check out his cut on the bottom of his foot, clean it, and hide in the bathroom. For about a day.

Unfortunately, he only was able to get the first third of his plan done before Kyle awoke. His entire body froze in fear.

"Ngh… Where am I?" He heard his friend mumble to himself, before sitting up and spotting Stan. He watched as the redhead blinked and noticed just how naked they both were. He blinked again and looked around the room. Then, his face turned a dark red as he gulped and looked back at Stan.

"Uh… Hi. Did you… Did you sleep well?" Kyle squeaked out, not so subtly looking around for his boxers. Stan decided to let him suffer and get them himself.

"I don't think either one of us did much sleeping." Stan replied vaguely, looking away and out of the window. They had the most fascinating view of the parking lot. Kyle seemed to realize that Stan wasn't going to throw him a bone and retrieve his boxers, so he meekly stood to get them himself.

Only when Kyle winced in pain did he turn to face him. "Are you okay?"

Kyle grimaced. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine. Just… Uhh, you know what? Don't worry about it."

Realization hit Stan for a second time that afternoon. "_Oh._ Ah, sorry about… that."

"Really, it's fine. Odds are, I'll get used to being pounded in the ass soon enough." Kyle started. "N-Not that I'm expecting this to be a regular thing between us or anything. You don't have to worry about me misreading what we did last night if you're not… You know, wanting this kind of thing with me. I get that."

Stan imagined that just a couple years ago he'd be flipping out and screaming by now. Thank God for eventual maturity. "Do I have options, then?" He asked, sitting on a side of the bed in thought.

Hesitantly, Kyle walked closer to him. "Well, let's put it this way; we can forget that we had sex together and try to go on like before and see where that takes us. Or we could have an open relationship that would mean we were mostly just friends, but we'd have occasional sexual encounters every now and then. Or," Kyle paused, looking away in embarrassment, "We could give this thing a real try, and take it at whatever pace we want."

"What do you want, Kyle?" Stan asked, capturing his gaze meaningfully.

"I want to give you a chance. You're my best friend, after all. But I also know that I don't want you to fake anything for me. If you don't want to go there with me, I'll understand." Kyle replied softly.

"Then I won't bullshit you anymore." Stan stated simply, reaching up to touch Kyle's face gently. He let a moment pass before he leaned closer, carefully pressing his lips against Kyle's.

It was breath-taking. He had kissed Wendy numerous times when they were together, but it never felt as _real_ as this. Wendy's lips were airy and smooth, like kissing a warm marble statue. But Kyle was rougher. His lips were slightly chapped and he didn't allow his mouth to easily mold around his, but rather, _fought back_, trying to get Stan to give into him. That was certainly new, and Stan had to admit that it seemed as if he preferred it. There was a certain spark between them that he had also never experienced before. It was jolting and addicting, and pretty soon Stan found himself pressing both of Kyle's wrists up and against the bed frame, pinning him down sensually.

It was several moments before they separated. "W-Whoa." Kyle breathed, gazing up at Stan in awe.

"Yeah." Stan replied, breathing harshly. "Hey Kyle? What actually happened last night? And yesterday? I don't exactly remember much."

Kyle let out a small laugh that startled Stan into jumping slightly from his position above him. "You don't remember? Well, what's the LAST thing you remember?"

He thought. "I think… we were running from the rain…" His eyes widened as he recalled the shed experience on his own. Had he really been THAT bold?! Well, shit. That explained the odd taste that was lingering in his mouth. "Oh…"

"Yeeeah… I think you shocked both of us." Kyle chuckled, watching Stan redden.

"But how did we get out of that shed?"

"Well," Kyle began. "The owner of that house came out to get something from the shed and caught you trying to get in a position to fuck me." He laughed at Stan's contorted expression. "So he screamed, we screamed, and finally he helped us get out from our predicament before kicking our asses out of his property. It was still raining and you were throwing a bit of a fit, telling me how badly you wanted to fuck my brains out. So we got a hotel room, put the expense on my dad's credit card, and did just that." Kyle snickered. "What bothers me is that I didn't even think of stopping you. I should definitely avoid drinking from now on- I loose my sense of right and wrong."

"Well, in hindsight, I'm glad you didn't." Stan grinned, taking the liberty to straddle Kyle's legs. "I think we should stay here an extra day to… get to know each other better."

"Can't argue with that."

* * *

And thus, Chapter 7 draws to a close~ Tell me what you think! A big thank you to the people who took the liberty to comment: DivineDragons, thebottombitch, and s-chick-12. You guys are so sweet~ ^-^ If there's anything that's bothering you about the story, any pairings you want to see more of (this is still only the introduction to many of the characters, but stating your preferences would be extremely useful), anything that makes you think all 'No, no, no! DON'T go there!', anything that you like… I'll listen and make note of it~ Next week might take me a while, but I'll try my best to get an update by the end of the week. Thanks for sticking with me ;)


	8. A Brief Interruption From the Author

**A Brief Interruption From the Author**

Greetings everyone! This is not a new chapter- upsetting, right? xP Sorry about that! The last chapter got such great feedback too! You all warmed my hearts so much. :) Thank you~ Last week I celebrated my day of birth with my dearest friends, which was a total blast xD This week I have my last bit of work, and then the rest of the summer you have my undivided attention, I swear. Now, a few heavier things I wanted to say.

Firstly, while this is not my first fanfiction, it is my first _South Park_ fanfiction and is also based on some very personal events in my own life. While most of these have been fictionalized accordingly, most of it hits 'below the belt' so to speak. It was entirely my own choice to address these things in this way, and while it's a relief to get it off of my chest, sometimes I need a little break from it. Oddly enough, this story is one of the happier ones I've written so far. xD -But it won't always be that way, of course. While I do enjoy fluff, after a while it gives me allergies. ;) I do feel the need for this fanfiction to be completed, and so it will. Just in good time, when I've gotten my skeletons back in their respective corners of my closet. I'm not telling you this to extract sympathy out of you or anything silly like that- I just wanted to let you know a little as to why this fanfiction will be written at a slower pace. I'm truly sorry that I can't sit down and pound out this story with the fury of a god; in fact, I feel a little dorky for taking the time to say all of this in the first place. But today I received an unpleasant reminder that caused me quite a bit of anger and even anxiety, and suddenly I realized how _afflicted _I still am. Which is frustrating.

REGARDLESS, I won't just be sitting around doing nothing. Oh, shit no. I have another story. That I've wanted to write for quite a while now. It's much darker, quirkier, and a venture I've been researching like a madman~ *smiles manically* We're going to be taking the cherished asshats of South Park to prison~! At first, I was really wanting to break into this other idea I've been tossing around for a while. But then I decided that I wanted some practice with portraying hallucinations and I felt like I needed to study more about paranoia in general for that one. So I thought, hey, prison is the perfect place to start! :D I know it's a bit sudden to be switching like that, but I'm a very sudden kind of person. Almost every chapter I write is thought about for six days and then pounded out in four to seven hours. Today I wanted to write about prison. So, here we go~ Expect hearing back from me this weekend, or in a couple hours.

Bye guys! :) I love you all so much!


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